


Scream

by justffantasy



Series: Scream: The Series [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Scream (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bisexual Richie Tozier, F/M, For the most part, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Stanley Uris, M/M, Murder, Other, Pansexual Bill Denbrough, Reddie, Scream AU, Stenbrough, everyone else is straight, maybe a little bit of bi curious mike, no pennywise, reddie angst, some stenbrough fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:40:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 41
Words: 102,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justffantasy/pseuds/justffantasy
Summary: There's a murderer in the small town of Derry, Maine.





	1. The Murder of Greta Bowie

Greta Bowie stared at the video that played on her phone screen, a grin on her face. “This is perfect. Tozier’s not gonna know what hit him.” She said triumphantly, shutting off her phone and smirking at the boy that sat across from her in the car.

  
“You know, now that that’s done, we could always go inside and have a little… fun.” Victor Criss grinned back at her, and Greta pulled away, making a face of disgust.

  
“Yeah, sorry, Victor. But no way in hell. I just needed your account so this could go up on YouTube.” She opened the door of the car and started to get out.

  
“Wait, but you said-” Victor started, but the door slammed in his face. Greta turned from the car and walked away, toward her house without saying another word to him.

  
Her house rose three stories tall, and as she entered, she tapped a button on her phone. Immediately, music blasted from speakers around the house, as loud as it could go. She didn’t worry about her parents being annoyed by it- her parents were rarely around, and wouldn’t be back until 8 the next morning. Going into her room, Greta started to undress, pulling on a bathing suit and putting her hair up in a simple bun. She sat down on her white bed cover as her phone chimed. She picked up her phone almost absentmindedly and clicked on the message that had been sent to her.

  
Chills ran down her spine.

  
It was a video of herself, less than a minute ago, undressing and putting on her swimsuit.

  
“Victor?” She called uneasily into the empty house. “If that’s you, I swear to god.” She got up, scowling. A second later, another video appeared on her phone of her calling out into the empty house. “Fine, be that way.” She muttered, shutting off her phone and taking it with her as she stepped outside, into the backyard. There was a huge pool back there, along with three hot tubs scattered around the sides of it. She walked over to one of the square hot tubs, sinking down into it with a content sigh. She turned her phone back on and clicked on Victor’s number, sending him a text.

  
_Greta: Was that you?_

**_Victor: Maybe. Is this where it gets interesting?_**

  
_Greta: I may have underestimated you._

  
Greta stretched out in the hot tub lazily, a smirk on her face. If he was still watching her, she knew that he would be seeing this.

  
_**Victor: You’re killing me**._

  
_Greta: Then get over here and do something about it._

  
**_Victor: Heads up._ **

 

Something splashed into the hot tub, water spraying everywhere, and Greta let out a little yelp of surprise. She leaned forward, attempting to get a better look at what had disturbed her peaceful evening. Slowly, what it was floated onto its side, and very clearly Greta could suddenly see what it was.

  
Victor’s head.

  
She let out a scream, scrambling out of the hot tub and running into the forest, taking her phone with her. She hid behind a tree, terror running through her body. After multiple attempts to get her phone to open up, finally she was able to get it to work. “Call 911.” She whispered, tears running down her face, terrified. After a second, the phone beeped.

  
“Calling Pottery Barn.” Was the phone’s response, and Greta swore under her breath, before letting out another scream as something crashed to her right. She took off again, and managed to get to her back door without slipping on the wet pavement by the pool. She slammed her hands against the door, letting out cries and screams.

  
“Please, please, somebody help me!” She screamed, and then white-hot pain arced across her back as a knife’s blade slashed it open. She let out another scream of pain, stumbling away from the person. A white mask with a mouth open in a silent scream stared back at her, the rest of the body hidden with a long, black cloak. She ran towards the other door as best she could, but this time, she wasn’t so lucky- she slipped on the wet grass, and a minute later she could feel the person behind her. She flipped over so she was facing them, sobbing and trying to crawl away from them.

  
“Please, please don’t-” she sobbed, but before she could even finish the sentence, the blade of the knife slit her throat ear to ear. Greta’s body collapsed, and slowly it went limp, dark red blood spilling from both wounds in large amounts. They picked up Greta’s body, throwing it carelessly in the pool to be discovered the next day.

~*~

Richie stared at the video that played on his computer screen, sent to him by Beverly at nearly 12:30 in the morning. He didn’t know how to feel about it- sure, he had wanted to come out, but not like this. Everyone at school would have already seen this- high school was hell already, he didn’t need this, too. He knew exactly what Bev was going to say about it, though (after, of course, she offered to beat the shit out of them). She would say that this was the perfect chance to be himself, and damn the consequences. And sure, he agreed with that. It was a chance for him to come out (or get forced out) and maybe that’d even open up some new options for him. Maybe he’d meet some new guys. Not that any of those thoughts helped, not as he scrolled through the comments underneath the video, feeling sick to his stomach.

  
The video was of Ash, his- well, Richie didn’t even know what he and Ash were. Richie had him pressed up against one of his car doors. The guy’s fingers were woven through Richie’s curly hair, Richie pressed up against him and kissing him. Now, watching the video, Richie’s chest ached, and he groaned softly. Somehow, he should have seen this coming. They couldn’t ever leave him alone, could they? Henry and his little goons. Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter, and Victor Criss. Richie scowled just thinking about it, and slammed the laptop shut. He took off his glasses and leaned back on his bed, rubbing his eyes. Tiredly, he wondered whether or not he should even bother going to school tomorrow, whether it was worth it or not. The stares and the whispers and the laughs and the notes that all had some variation of “You’re going to hell, faggot” shoved into his lockers. But mostly, that wasn’t what he was worried about, no.

  
He was more worried about what Eddie was going to think of him.

  
Sure, he hadn’t seen Eddie in like, two years, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, there was no way in hell Eddie didn’t see that. What was he going to say? Would he even acknowledge it? Would he join in with everyone that would mock Richie tomorrow? He doubted it. That wasn’t exactly like Eddie, or at least, the Eddie that Richie had known. Then again, the Eddie that Richie had known wouldn’t have left him in 8th grade, either, along with Bill, Stan, Mike, and the rest of the Losers Club. All except for Bev.

  
Richie let loose another soft groan, not wanting to think about that anymore. He didn’t even know why he cared anymore, because it had happened almost two years ago. But everytime he passed them in the halls, a pang of hurt went through his whole body. They would pass by without even looking at Richie and Bev, laughing and joking, as if the two of them had never even been there. As if the two of them had never even existed.

  
It had all started out of the blue two years ago. Richie was sat at the Loser’s usual table, Bev there too, talking and laughing as they waited for the others to get there. Richie’s nose and cheeks were red from being outside, running on the track for P.E., and his curly hair was a mess. He tapped his fingers on the table as he waited, a smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to tell Eddie what had happened to Henry- something that Richie couldn’t even remember now- during P.E., and he knew it would make the others laugh, too. The smile on his face was bright, completely unsuspecting of what was about to happen, and what would continue to happen for the next two years.

  
Eddie, Bill and Stan all entered the noisy cafeteria, talking to each other, smiling. Richie waved them over excitedly, but slowly his hand lowered in confusion as none of them seemed to notice, walking straight past them without even looking back. Stan didn’t glance over at them, but Richie could see the guilt in his gaze as he walked straight past, even though to anyone else it would have looked like the boy hadn’t even noticed that Richie and Bev were there. Next to enter out of the group were Mike and Ben, and both of them did the same thing, walking past Richie and Bev without saying a word to them. Ben glanced over- his gaze connected with Bev’s, and Richie could see the exchange between them. Ben’s eyes held guilt, same as Stan, but also a slight bitterness, like he knew something was wrong with what they were doing but he didn’t stop it. Bev’s eyes held hurt and confusion, same as Richie’s, as they walked past and went to sit with the rest of the boys.  
“Did we do something…?” Richie asked slowly, sitting unusually still.

  
“I don’t know,” was Beverly’s reply.

  
For the weeks following that, the same thing continued to happen, and Richie still couldn’t understand why. Ben still came and talked to them sometimes, and Richie knew Bev and Ben were getting closer, but nothing was said about the other boys anymore. The first time that Richie had tried to get answers from Ben, Ben had retreated back to the others and hadn’t come back for nearly a week, as if nervous that Richie would continue to press it. And while he wanted to, he also didn’t want to lose another friend. So he kept quiet.

  
Eddie ignored his calls. Bill, Stan and Mike ignored his calls. He was ignored in the hallways, he was ignored when he went to any of their houses to apologize for whatever it was that had gotten him and Beverly kicked out of their close friend group. Nothing seemed to work to get them to talk to him again, and eventually, he stopped trying, instead attempting to ignore the hurt in his chest and move on.

  
The next year, Richie hoped that things would change. That they would come back.

  
No such luck.

  
Mike Hanlon joined the football team, and slowly, the Losers leveled up in the school’s social hierarchy. Bill’s stutter was less prominent, Eddie didn’t use his inhaler anymore (he taught himself breathing exercises and no longer needed it, and Richie even heard a rumor going around that his asthma had been faked by his mother in the first place.) Ben had lost weight and joined the track team. The Losers were no longer losers, all except for Richie and Bev.

  
Richie had stopped contacting them altogether, and had started smoking and drinking more. Bev stayed away from the alcohol, but she always joined Richie for his more than occasional smoke breaks. Beverly had gotten over what had happened, Richie knew, partially thanks to Ben still being there, and partially because Richie had pretended to get over it as well instead of bringing it up all the time and refusing to let her move on. What sucked was that Richie couldn’t actually seem to move on, no matter what he did. Eddie had been his best friend (and though he wouldn’t admit it, his biggest crush, too). Richie had blamed himself, and couldn’t let himself forget about it. It was always there, in the back of his mind, and it wouldn’t leave him alone. What had he done to cause them to just… abandon him?  
Richie forced himself to snap out of it, rolling over into the pillow and letting out a soft sigh. He shut his eyes, and forced himself to sleep, something he had gotten quite good at over the years because of similar thoughts.

~*~

Bill raised an eyebrow at Audra, an amused smile on his lips. “C-come on, Audra, we n-need to finish this. It’s late.”

  
“Bill,” she whined, resting her head on his shoulder and offering a sweet smile. “It’s boring. I think we should do something fun.”

  
“A-at 11 o’clock a-at night?” At Audra’s nod, he gave a small laugh. “No, Audra. We need to finish this, a-and then I need s-s-sleep. I’m tired a-as hell, and it’s due tomorrow.”

  
“But-” she started again, a cute pout on her lips, and Bill leaned down and kissed her, silencing her protests.

  
“No.” He mumbled against her lips, smiling. “N-now come on, help me wi-ith this one.”

~*~

Richie had been right- if he had thought it was hell before, he had been dead wrong. This was hell. Usually he went by mostly unnoticed, maybe the occasional remark from Henry Bowers, or the note that said faggot in his locker, but now it was like he had personally declared war on the entire school without even realizing it. On his way to class he had gotten shoved into the lockers by some guy on the football team. In his locker he had gotten more than just a couple notes, and they had all fluttered out and gathered at a small pile at his feet. Instead of even bothering to look at them, though, he grabbed his math textbook, his notes, and slammed the door shut, walking away. He refused to give any reaction to any of it, knowing that would just make it worse. He simply walked to where he usually met Bev, face emotionless.

  
“You’re gay and I have to find out through a video on YouTube?” Was the first thing that she said to him, bright red hair tucked behind her ears carelessly, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder to hold all of her books. She preferred that instead of going back to her locker because it was less time consuming. She was wearing ripped skinny jeans and a flowing white t-shirt, a teasing smile on her lips. “I mean, sure, Rich, I could kind of tell, but still.”

  
Richie rolled his eyes, and even with the bad situation he was in, he couldn’t help but smile. Bev had that effect on him, always. It was never hard for her to cheer him up. “Okay, first, off, not gay. I’m bi-curious.” At this, Beverly scoffed, and Richie pushed her lightly with the hand that wasn’t holding his books. “Fine. Bisexual.” She just raised her eyebrows at him, waiting. After a moment he grumbled, “With a strong male preference, okay? That good enough for you?”

  
Satisfied, Bev nodded. “Okay, so go on. Who is this guy that you were making out with in the middle of a parking lot?” Richie really didn’t feel like telling her that it was their friend, Ash, so when Richie just shrugged, her eyes widened and she grinned. “You can’t even remember his name? _Scandalous.”_

  
Richie gave a small laugh. “Come on, Bevvy, I’ve done a lot worse.” He winked. “I have absolutely no problem with taking a guy back to my room and-”

  
“Beep beep, Tozier.” She said before he could get very far, knowing full well how deep into the description he would go. Richie opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat and the conversation lapsed into momentary silence as a group of guys and girls passed, a whisper going through them, and the girls collapsed into giggles, shooting looks at him. Bev flipped them off as they went by and turned back to Richie. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  
“Take the video down?” Richie asked grimly, glancing down at her. Over the years he had grown taller than most kids his age, and now looked down on just about everyone, though there was the occasional exception.

  
“Well, it’s already been yanked. Probably flagged for content.” She shrugged quietly. “I tried to trace the source, but nothing good came up. It was just a dummy account. Listen, the second we find out who did this I promise I’ll-”

  
Richie gave a slight smile. “I know, Bev. Thank you.”

 

~*~

 

Eddie gave a soft sigh, gaze on Richie as he and Bev walked away, Bev in front of Richie as if to protect him without even realizing that she was doing it. “Guys, I thought we agreed to trash that video.” His tone was slightly accusing, and there was enough heat in his gaze as he turned back to look at them that the others turned away almost guiltily.

“It wasn’t me,” Bill and Stan both chimed in at the same time, and Stan smiled faintly without even noticing it. Eddie rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Stan had the biggest crush on Bill, and had for as long as Eddie could remember. All of them could see it, but none of them brought it up or mentioned it to either of them. Bill had said he was straight multiple times, and while Eddie knew that wasn’t quite true, he didn’t push it, and he never brought it up with Stan. Stan’s mood would always noticeably drop after that.

“I didn’t do it, either. Let’s be honest, we all know who did it.” Mike said grimly, and Eddie sighed, letting the heat drop from his gaze.

“Greta.” The all said, tones dark. Eddie ran his fingers through his hair, a clear sign of stress that the group had gotten used to after they had left Richie.

“I should have stopped her from filming that.” Eddie buried his head in his hands, groaning. “I just, I saw him, and…”

Mike and Ben exchanged a glance. While Eddie saw Stan’s obvious crush on Bill (and at that, Bill’s slightly more subtle crush on Stan, in fact so subtle that Bill himself had not yet noticed it), the others saw Eddie’s crush on Richie. In fact, they had all seen it since the day that Richie and Eddie had met. Stan reached out and rested a hand on Eddie’s arm quietly, understanding, but Eddie didn’t pull his face out of his hands, a slight tremor going through him.

“I didn’t think- didn’t _want_ to think- that she’d actually do anything with it.” He said weakly. He could remember that night clearly, and thinking about it made his stomach twist with guilt.

He had been sitting in Greta’s car, scrolling through his phone and trying hide his annoyance. He had practically been forced into spending the night with her and was now greatly regretting it, texting Mike about how horribly the night was going. He had been in the middle of sending him another text when Greta had suddenly let out a laugh of excitement. “Look, it’s the fag!”

His head had snapped up, eyes focusing on another truck in the parking lot. If he squinted, he could faintly see a misshapen outline. “Who?”

“Tozier.” Greta was grinning as if it was Christmas, and Eddie scowled.

“What are you talking about?” He leaned forward, and Greta put her phone up and turned it to record. Then she zoomed in, and Eddie could see what was in fact Richie Tozier, and some other guy that didn’t go to their school. Richie had the other guy pressed up against the window, kissing him passionately, his wild curls even more a mess with the other guy’s hands running through them.

Eddie felt like he was going to be sick. He didn’t dare say a word, unsure of what would come out if he did so. Another emotion was whirling through his stomach, and it hurt, making him nearly breathless with surprise and… anger? Regret? He brushed the thought away, and leaned back as if he wasn’t interested in it at all. Greta kept the recording going for about a full minute before shutting it off.

Thinking back on it now, Eddie felt like slamming his head onto the table in frustration. How could he have been so stupid? Of course she was gonna post the video. And of course it was going to make life hell for Richie.

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Mike said, sounding genuinely confused. “I mean, it’s kind of been obvious he wasn’t straight. Who cares?”

Eddie knew that Mike honestly just didn’t know, didn’t understand. Why would he? He was straight as a ruler. But after the frustration with the video and the anger at himself, Eddie couldn’t help it- his temper flared and he stood up abruptly.

“Who cares? Richie’s just been forced out of the closet, and I was an accomplice.”

“Eddie, you ma-ake it sound like you just m-murdered someone.” Bill said quietly. “Calm down a li-ittle, okay?”

“No!” Eddie exploded, throwing his hands up in the air without really meaning to. People glanced over at them, including Richie and Bev, and Eddie shut his eyes for a minute. He could feel his chest tightening, and almost- _almost_ \- reached instinctively for his inhaler. Instead, though, he took in a deep breath, counted to ten, and opened his eyes again. “This is my fault. And this time I’m gonna fix it.” He said firmly.


	2. Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new kid comes to town. We learn about an old serial killer, and Eddie tries to fix things with Richie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, all of the characters are aged up (obviously) and are about 16 years of age. (Also, I imagine aged up Richie as Ezra Miller in the Perks of Being a Wallflower, it's just my preference.) Also, sorry for the slightly shorter chapter, guys. I'm trying to shorten them a little so I can post them daily. As soon as I get more time, I promise they'll be longer!

“Cavemen cast fires, those fires created shadows, and those shadows created fear.” The teacher’s voice floated across the room. “And people have been obsessed with scaring each other since.”

“His name is Kieran Wilcox,” Stan murmured to Ben, glancing over at the new boy that sat only a couple desks away from them. The new kid had carefully combed back brown hair, with warm brown eyes and a charming smile. He was also almost as tall as Richie, though a little bit shorter.

“Stan.” A voice interrupted them, and Stan looked up at the teacher, feigning interest and curiosity. “Would you please tell us which genre originated with the castle of Otranto?” 

“The gothic genre.” He said matter-of-factly, leaning back in his seat. 

The teacher sighed in annoyance and sat on the edge of his desk. “Look, guys, I get it. No one wants to sit around reading 500 dusty pages about monks and curses, but no one is forcing you to watch the Walking Dead, either.”

Some guy in class grinned, raising his hand. “Is the Walking Dead going to be on the midterm?” 

Bill rolled his eyes. “Zombies aren’t literature.” 

“Why not?” Kieran interrupted, glancing over at Bill. “George Romero, Horace Walpole, it’s all the same bones.”

“Or the same rotting flesh,” the teacher agreed, smiling at Kieran. “He’s right. Gothic genre is all over TV right now. You’ve got American Horror Story…” the teacher went on to list more, but Mike interrupted this time.

“What about Texas Chainsaw, or Halloween?”

Bev raised her hand but didn’t wait for permission before speaking. “Those are slasher movies. You can’t do a slasher movie as a TV series.” She sat up a little more in her chair, eyes brightening as they did when she talked about something that she was really interested in. “Think about it. Girl and her friends arrive at the dance, the camp, the deserted town, whatever, killer takes them out one by one, and an hour and a half later the sun comes up as survivor girl sits in the back of the ambulance watching her friends’ bodies being wheeled past. Slasher movies burn bright and fast. TV… TV has to drag things out more. And by the time the first body is found, it’s only a matter of time before the bloodbath commences.”

 

~*~

 

“The news isn’t saying much about it,” Stan grumbled, scrolling through on his phone. “Nothing about how she was killed or anything.”

“Helloooo, why am I here?” Bev said as a counselor passed by, looking annoyed more than anything. Right now she was supposed to be out with Richie, making their plan of attack for whoever had released that video (though she had a pretty good idea about who it was). 

“It’s grief counseling. It’s mandatory.” Bill said to Bev, watching to see her reaction to what he was saying. He had said it casually, as if they were old friends, just wanting to see Beverly’s reaction to the fact that he was talking to her again.

She shot him a cold look and didn’t say a word, whole demeanor changing abruptly. Before it had been minor annoyance, and now it was a cold type of anger. She didn’t even look at him after that, blue eyes burning with an intense ferocity.

“Why am I here? I didn’t even know her. I’ve never met her in my life.” Kieran stated, looking kind of confused, but not like he had anywhere else he really needed to be. Bev let out a small chuckle, though it sounded tense from Bill talking to her.

“I know, right? I mean, I feel a mild interest, but I’m definitely not sad. If anything, she deserved it.” The last part was bitter, and Kieran shot her a curious look, but she didn’t elaborate any more. And while Bill and Stan knew exactly what had happened to cause Beverly to have that opinion of Greta, neither of them said anything about it, either. 

“Finally!” Stan said loudly, and Bev jumped slightly in surprise, but didn’t even look over at him. He continued on as if he didn’t even notice her, talking to Bill. “One of her neighbors tweeted that her throat was slit from ear to ear. The news is all over it. They’re playing the whole ‘Maybe Brandon James is back’ thing.”

Bill went stiff beside Stan, and both Beverly and Stan’s eyes went wide at the same time. They glanced at each other, and though Beverly quickly looked away again, Stan felt a warm flash toward the girl that he had once been best friends with; and he also saw the same look of guilt that was in his eyes for bringing up what he had just said. “Bill, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“B-Brandon J-Juh-a-ames is  _ d-dead _ .” Bill cut Stan off. His usually warm, blue eyes were now hard and cold, and he stood up abruptly, grabbing his bag and walking out of them room without looking back.

Kieran looked as confused as ever, tilting his head. “Who’s Brandon James?”

“He, uh…” for a moment, Bev seemed at a loss for words, kind of shaken by Bill’s sudden exit. She shook her head as if pushing away a thought and focused on Kieran. “He killed a bunch of people, and cut some others up. Here…” she pulled up a picture on her phone and showed it to Kieran. “That’s him. He was diagnosed with the same disease that the Elephant Man had. People say he was born a monster, but I say he was bullied and beaten into one.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added in a softer voice, “Bill’s dad was stabbed, and he almost died.” 

Kieran stared at him for a long moment. “And you know all this, why?”

Bev’s cheeks went slightly pink, but other than that she gave no sign of her slight embarrassment. She tilted her head up a little bit higher. “Some girls like makeup and dresses. I like serial killers. Though, technically, Brandon James isn’t classified as a serial killer, because he killed all his victims in the same night.”

“Anyway. Brandon James definitely had a sad backstory, that’s for certain. His mom homeschooled him. His dad was ashamed of him, and the only person that actually cared about him was his brother, Troy. Whenever he went out, he would always wear a surgical mask. Now, the rumor is that what made him start killing was that he fell in love. His brother said Brandon was obsessed over this girl named Daisy. He would give her little carvings and everything. Well, one day, there was this big dance. So Brandon went to meet Daisy for the first time. Well, everything went smoothly at first. They got into a good conversation. Then he took off his mask. Well, needless to say, the smooth sailing stopped there. Some jocks jumped him, believing that they were saving Daisy from danger. And I guess something in Brandon just snapped that day.”

“By the time he was done, five students were dead. The manhunt finally ended at the lake. Daisy agreed to meet him there. When he arrived, cops were there waiting for him. He moved to give Daisy a necklace- and when he moved, the police shot him. One shot sent him tumbling into the lake, and his body was never found. Nobody ever knew who Daisy was, either.” 

 

~*~

 

“So you think Victor really did it?” Ben asked, glancing around at the others. It was the next day, and Victor hadn’t shown up yet- he had reportedly been the last person seen with Greta, and was now the main suspect.

“He hasn’t been here since the day that Greta died. That’s enough proof for me,” Eddie muttered, frowning down at the ground. 

“Yeah, well, not enough for the police.” Audra said as she came to sit down by them, Bill giving a small smile and slinging an arm around her waist.

“You’re right. Which means they’ll probably interview every single one of us.” Mike said, and narrowed his eyes teasingly at Audra. “Where were you on the night of Greta’s death.” Audra laughed.

“Up to no good,” she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Eddie suddenly stood up, making an absent minded comment about talking to them later before jogging away. As Stan glanced over, he could see why Eddie had left so suddenly.

 

~*~

 

Richie walked with his head down, by himself, thinking about the events of the past day. He had skipped his next class, opting instead to roam around the hallways of the school. He did this quite a lot, actually, and he liked the peace that it brought him. No kids running around and screaming or yelling or laughing, no whispers, no targeted stares, nothing. Just him and the occasional teacher that would walk by. But this time, something unexpected interrupted his peace and quiet.

“Richie!” Eddie Kaspbrak jogged up to him, an easy smile on his face, though Richie could see the nervousness in his eyes. Richie just stared at him, mind going blank, mouth parting slightly in surprise. Eddie ignores him for two years, and just comes up to him like it was a normal, everyday thing? 

“...Eddie?” He said slowly in response, but before he could say anything else, Eddie interrupted him, talking fast.

“Look, there’s a party at Stan’s tonight, and I was thinking maybe you could-”

Richie cut him off, having snapped back to his senses, his voice cold. “I’m grounded. There’s kind of this video that went around- you saw it, everyone saw it, I know. And besides, I thought you were pretty much done with me.” He scoffed, turning away from Eddie. His chest was starting to ache like it usually did whenever he thought about what had happened with the others. He wished Beverly was there.

“Richie, wait-” Eddie reached out and grabbed Richie’s arm, spinning him back around. “Look, I-” he stopped and bit his lip, guilt in his eyes but not quite sure how to continue on. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to- there’s no good explanation for-” Eddie was stumbling over his words now, unsure how to get out his apology and explanation.

“Stop,” Richie said quietly, sounding more tired than mad or upset. “I’ll come, okay? I’ll be there.” He knew that a year ago, he would have refused, would have shouted at Eddie, asked  _ “How could you just abandon me?”  _ and then stormed off because no explanation really would have been good enough, not for that. But if he was being honest, he was tired of being mad all the time, tired of being hurt at what Eddie, Stan, Bill, and Mike had done. He was tired of walking past them and pretending to not even notice so he wouldn’t look like an idiot that was still obsessed with them while they moved on. He was just… tired. “I’ll be there.” He repeated, and turned away from Eddie again, hand reaching up absentmindedly to tug at his curls as he walked away. 

If his heart gave a small rush at the relief in Eddie’s voice when he said “Okay”, no one needed to know.

 

~*~

 

Henry Bowers sat down next to Patrick Hockstetter in the cafeteria, a frown on his face. “You cleared off your computer desktop, right?”

Patrick just looked at him for a minute, before smirking slightly. “I will, don’t worry. I’m on it.”

Henry looked like he wanted to strangle Patrick, and was probably considering it. “This isn’t about getting suspended, dude. Greta is  _ dead _ . You wanna wear an orange jumpsuit for the rest of your life? Fine. But I’m not getting caught, too.”

Patrick only scoffed. “Of course I don’t want that. But you’re fingerprints are all over this, too.”

Henry got a dangerous look in his eyes, and Patrick could recognize that look from whenever Henry decided that it was time to torment Tozier and Marsh. And he never, ever wanted that look aimed at him. He might not survive.  
“Just get. Rid of it.” Henry hissed angrily, and Patrick saw a flash of something- a knife?- before Henry was gone, walking out of the cafeteria.

 

~*~

 

Bill stared into the mirror for a moment longer, making an indecisive noise and then messing his hair up a bit more to make it look better. He wasn’t really one for parties, but he knew Mike and Eddie were both going, which meant Stan would be there as well. Almost afterthought, he remembered that Audra would likely be there, too. The party was supposed to be in memory of Greta, but Bill knew that everyone there was secretly glad that she was gone, including himself. The most popular topic at the party was either going to be who did it, where Victor was, and, he thought guiltily, Richie’s video. 

He shook his head and pushed that thought away. If any conversation about that were to come up, he made a promise to himself that he would tell them to leave Richie alone. Everyone knew that they had been friends- and he honestly didn’t care what they thought of him. No one deserved to be outed like that, especially not Richie. While he was immature, he had always lightened the mood whenever things got too dark with the Losers. He had always been able to make all of them laugh, even Eddie and Stan, which was not a task easily accomplished.

A pang of guilt hit his chest and he turned away from the mirror, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m going o-out!” He called, but didn’t really expect much of a response. As usual, he didn’t get one, and he walked out. As he did, he grabbed the small box that was on the porch and put it inside the house. He called again, “Th-there’s a pa-ackage.” Then he was gone. On the way to his car, though, he did think about something weird- the name on the box hadn’t been to him, his dad, his mom, or even Georgie. It had said  **DAISY.**


	3. The Party

Sharon Denbrough, mother to Bill and George Denbrough, walked into the room that her son had just left with no real interest. She reached down, picking up the package that Bill had set on the floor by door as he left, and nearly dropped it with shock as soon as she did.  **DAISY** , it read in big, bold letters, and she felt like she was going to be sick. There was no way it was him. He was dead, she knew it, or at least far, far away from here. Sharon carried it into the kitchen, using a knife to cut the tape that was holding the box closed. Then, with shaking hands, she slowly opened the small box up.

Inside, resting on top of something, there was a note. Something red had stained the corner of it, and she nearly gagged. Blood. The note read,

 

He has your eyes.

 

She set down the note, swallowing hard, and slowly lifted up the paper that kept whatever else was inside the box obscured from view. When she saw what is was, she was suddenly glad that Zack was out of the house, and that Georgie was spending the night at his friend’s, because she let out a terrified scream.

Inside the box was a heart.

 

~*~

 

The party was loud and noisy and Bill could barely even remember why he had come. It was just annoying, and the alcohol was pretty much giving everyone here an excuse to act like an idiot. Bill, Audra, and Mike were all sitting on the couch, while Stan sat on the floor by Bill, Eddie by his side. They were all talking to each other, Audra really the only one that had anything to drink so far. She had a red solo cup in her hand. So did Bill, but he hadn’t taken even a sip out of it, and he didn’t really plan to, either. He wasn’t a big fan of drinking. Eddie didn’t drink, either. So if the Losers all had a bit too much to drink, Eddie would usually take Mike and Stan home while Bill took Audra. If he was being honest with himself, sometimes he wished it was the other way around. Audra was tiring.

Bill exhaled gently, playing with Audra’s hair quietly, not listening to the conversation in the slightest. Eddie noticed Stan watching them, and nudged him gently, causing Stan to snap out of it almost immediately. Bill didn’t seem to notice at all, though, lost in his thoughts. His blue eyes were slightly stormy, and Eddie knew he was thinking about the murder. It was hard not to, and it was what everybody talked about, all the time. That and the video. Eddie was surprised at how long it had stayed popular. Usually it circled around the school for a day, and then it was old news. Things came and went fast in Derry. But not this time, it seemed. No one could get over either subjects.

Eddie looked up as Bill’s body gave a light shudder, and only Audra didn’t seem to notice, texting someone on her phone while taking a drink out of her cup. Stan sat back, leaning against Bill’s legs, and even though the gesture was simple Eddie could see the tension visibly go out of Bill’s body. Eddie rested his head on Stan’s shoulder boredly, scrolling through his phone. No one called them out on it, because this was a normal thing. The group was a lot closer than most, and Eddie could rest his head on Stan’s shoulder or use Mike’s lap on a pillow when he was tired, and no one would think any differently of it. It had taken a while for everybody else to get used to it, sure, but after a year or two no one really noticed anymore.

The party suddenly went quiet, and Eddie looked up in surprise, before making direct eye contact with Richie.  _ Oh.  _ Everyone stared at Richie, and a murmur went through the room. Eddie could see annoyance flash across his features, but he definitely didn’t expect what happened next.

“Yeah, I kissed a guy. Get over it, assholes.” He snapped, pushing his glasses further up on his face and grabbing a bottle of tequila before ducking outside. Eddie felt a brief flash of disappointment that he didn’t come over to them, but decided he couldn’t really blame him. Not after what Eddie had done. Beverly Marsh entered right after Richie, only looking amused as she followed him, flipping off Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter as she passed. A warm feeling went through Eddie at that. He knew he had missed Richie more than anything, but he definitely missed Beverly, too. 

He glanced at the others, as if asking for permission. Bill just gave him a slight smile. “Go ahead, Eddie.” He didn’t need to say another word. Eddie got up, grabbing two solo cups and walking out to where Richie sat by the pool, playing with his video camera. He always had that thing on him now. Eddie gave a fond smile, but it faded away as he sat down to the right of Richie. Instead he gave Richie an uncertain smile, chest starting to tighten just a little bit. Eddie ignored it.

“Getting any good footage?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the video camera and then to the party. Richie gave a soft laugh. Eddie’s breath hitched slightly.

“Yeah. It’s an STD cautionary tale.” Richie grinned just a little bit, and though the tension was still there, there was considerably less than before. Eddie would take it. He looked down at the pool for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out what to say. When he looked back up, though, the video camera was focused on him, and he let out a squeal that he would never admit to later. Richie was smirking behind the camera, and Eddie let a fond but annoyed look take over his face. 

“Richie!” He covered his face with one hand, and the other he put over the lense of the camera. “Don’t do that!” 

“Fine, fine,” Richie laughed as he turned the camera off and put it beside him, feet dangling into the water. Richie reached out into the water, gaze flicking over the gentle waves that were caused by his hand as he moved it around. Eddie watched him for a moment, tracing the curve of Richie’s mouth with his eyes, the locks of black hair that were looking like they need a haircut, the shape of his nose. Eddie wanted to take in everything about him, in case Richie suddenly decided that he  _ should _ hate Eddie for what he had done. Eddie still wasn’t 100% sure that Richie didn’t hate him. 

He decided to speak first, not able to stand the silence anymore. “So… this guy… are you guys like, a thing?” 

Richie laughed softly. “No, no. You know me, Eds, I don’t like to be tied down,” he winked. “But seriously, no, we’re not. His name is Asher. He’s funny. Smart. But he, uh… hasn’t come to terms with his sexuality quite yet. In fact, I think he hates me at the moment.” He sighed. 

“Don’t worry. He’ll realize how great you are.” Eddie said, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest and refusing to acknowledge what it was- jealousy. 

“Obviously you didn’t.” Richie said, a bit more harshly than he meant to, bitterness in his voice. There was silence again, Eddie looking like he just took a slap to the face, and Richie looking like he wished he could take it all back. He also looked scared that Eddie would run off, never to speak to him again. This time, Richie couldn’t bear to be the one to break the tension, afraid that he’d somehow make it all worse. He seemed pretty good at doing that. 

“I missed you.” Eddie broke the silence without even meaning to. His face flushed red, embarrassed from the sudden announcement. He wished he could take it back immediately. While it was true, Richie probably didn’t feel the same. Eddie had just left him, had ignored his calls, had refused to see him when he would show up at his house. But at the same time, he was really hoping that Richie would say it back. He didn’t want to think- selfish as it was- that Richie had just moved on, just like that, and that he hadn’t even missed Eddie when-

“I missed you too.” Richie said softly, looking down at the water. Eddie glanced over at him in surprise, but if Richie noticed, he didn’t look up. He stared at the water like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever seen the boy sit so still. Be so quiet. It unnerved him slightly. Richie always had something to say. Then again, Eddie wasn’t sure he wanted him to say anything. He knew what it’d be. 

Eddie opened his mouth to break the silence again, not entirely sure what he was going to say, when Richie spoke first. “Why did you do it?”

He said it so quickly that Eddie almost missed it at first, not that it would have mattered. He saw it coming. Richie was looking up at him, eyes big and wide but closed off, like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

“Well…” Eddie started slowly, looking back down.

 

~*~

 

“Well…” Eddie started slowly, and Richie watched him quietly, afraid of what he was going to say. He was afraid that Eddie was going to say that he had done something wrong, that it was Richie’s fault. Realistically, he knew that Eddie would never  _ say _ that. It might be true, but Eddie would never tell him that to his face. He was too kind, cared too much about if he hurt Richie by saying that. 

“I got scared.” Eddie murmured finally, and Richie cut off mid-thought. 

“Scared? Of me?” He asked with confusion, and Eddie gave a small hum to show that Richie had guessed right. Eddie’s normally pale face was red now, and he looked extremely nervous. His hand was also shoved into his pocket, where Richie assumed his inhaler was, just in case. 

Eddie let out a trembling breath, but before he could say a word, Richie heard Beverly’s voice call out, “Rich! Come join us!” Her voice was slurred, obviously drunk, which was never a good sign. Especially considering she was Richie’s designated driver.

Richie’s head snapped over to look at Bev in surprise, snapping out of the moment that he and Eddie had just been having. “She’s drunk, I’m sorry.” He said as he got up, but he was silently thankful for Bev’s distraction. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what Eddie was gonna say.  _ Scared you’d catch some disease from me? Get lung cancer from my smoking? Catch the gay? Or bisexual?  _ At this, he almost laughed without humor. “We’ll talk later?” He asked tentatively, and Eddie gave a thankful nod, looking back at the water. Richie stayed there a moment later before going off with Bev.

 

~*~   
  


“I’m just saying, it’s weird that we were talking about slasher movies, and then Greta got slashed.” Stan shrugged, taking another small sip from his cup.

“Technically, Gre-eta w-wuh-was already d-dead when we started that conversation.” Bill pointed out.

“I’m just saying, it’s creepy.” Stan glanced up at Bill, giving a shrug.

“Maybe we should be scared.” Said a voice from behind them, causing Stan to jump slightly in surprise. Bill’s hand settled briefly on Stan’s shoulder to get him to relax, and Mike didn’t miss the grateful look that Stan shot Bill. Mike looked over to see Kieran, the new kid. 

“A party, with drunk kids, out in the middle of the forest, with the lake where Brandon James died,” Kieran went out, settling down comfortably in the chair by the couch. “It’s like a natural slasher setting.”

 

~*~

 

Bill, Audra, Stan and Mike had wandered off after the conversation with Kieran ended, sitting down outside and eventually getting joined by Eddie and Beverly, too. Richie had walked off to get drunk, Bev had said. She was a lot more sober now, because of Eddie shoving her a water bottle the second she walked over to him (right after that he had apologized for what he’d done for the past two years. She hadn’t forgiven him, but she hadn’t turned him away, either, and it was a start. Thankfully, she didn’t ask Eddie’s reasons behind it. Yet.) and now Beverly was messing with her phone.

“I know this is already brought up  _ way _ too much, but… do you guys really think that Victor did it?” Mike asked, leaning back as he did so. He honestly didn’t feel that bad bringing it up. Everyone hated Greta and Victor.

“I think so. E-everyone knows he’s i-insa-ane.” Bill muttered, thinking back to the times when Henry, Patrick, and Victor would gang up on the Losers. He could never forget those moments, especially the night about a year ago. But he would never regret that one, either. He could remember Stan getting cornered by Bowers in a brick alley, staying calm and telling them “Let me

_ by.” Stan’s voice rang out in the night, not that anyone in the stupid little town of Derry, Maine, would pay any mind to it. Stan could be screaming his head off and people would pass by without a care in the world. Bill hated it. _

_ As soon as he heard his friend’s voice, Bill broke into a jog, the groceries that he was sent to retrieve forgotten in favor of helping his friend. He hoped that it was only Henry, but as he turned the corner, he could see the other two idiots, Patrick and Victor. Bill swallowed. He knew he could turn back now without getting into any further trouble. None of them had seen him yet. _

_ And yet, Bill knew he would never just leave his friend to deal with them by himself. And looking back on this moment in year, Bill Denbrough knew without a doubt that if he had left Stan there, Stan would not still be alive.  _

_ But if Bill was going to help, he was going to be smart about it. He picked up a beer bottle on the street, and took a deep breath, before running out from the safety of the corner and smashing the bottle over Victor’s head. The second it made contact with Victor, he crumpled to the ground, unconscious and bleeding. Bill felt a spark of triumph race through him, but as he turned to face Patrick and Henry, it vanished. Henry’s fist flew toward Bill’s face, and connected with his nose. Bill let out a yelp of pain, but shot back to his feet, hitting Henry on the jaw hard.  _

_ Bill faintly Stan say his name with urgency, but he didn’t have time to look back at Stan, using all of his energy to dodge Henry’s blows. It didn’t work. Henry caught his stomach, and Bill doubled over as all of the air in his stomach left his body with a woosh. He heard another cry of pain, and through tears of pain he saw Stan fall hard. Patrick kicked him, and Bill heard one of Stan’s rib break with a  _ crack.

_ “Stop!” Bill shouted, and it was the distraction that Henry needed. Bill was already kneeled on the ground because of Henry’s first blow, and now Henry kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling over backwards. He could feel the skin on his hands shred underneath the strain of catching himself. “W-wait!” He cried as Patrick moved to kick Stan again. _

_ Stan, Stan, Stan. Curly haired Stan who loved birds. Stan who was always by Bill’s side, standing up to anyone who made fun of his stutter. Stan who never judged Bill, not once. Stan who, the first day they met, seemed to be genuinely shocked that Bill wanted to hang out with a  _ Jew _ , because none of the other kids wanted to play with him. Stan, who didn’t mind Bill’s stutter, not one bit. Stan, who was now curled up on the cold stone ground, eyes filled with pain. Stan, who was currently getting the shit kicked out of him. Stan. _

_ “P-p-puh-lease stop! Stop! Hit me i-i-i-nstead, I won’t fi-ight back or a-a-anything, I promise!” Bill shouted, and he saw Patrick and Henry both pause. Henry hauled Bill up by his shirt.  _

_ “What was that, Denbrough?” Henry asked, a twisted grin spreading across his face. Bill felt like he was gonna be sick.  _

(Stan)

_ “Me for h-him. Y-you let him g-go. Take it o-o-ou-ut on me instead. I won’t fi-ight back. If I d-d-do, d-deal’s off.” Henry narrowed his eyes at Bill, seeming unsure. “Please,” Bill whispered, hating to show weakness in front of Henry but refusing to back down because  _

(Stan)

_ that was weakness, too. Henry let go of Bill’s shirt, and without the support he was using to stay on his feet, Bill fell back to the ground.  _

_ “Okay, Denbrough, you got yourself a deal. But I have one other condition.” Henry grinned down at him, and Bill felt like he was gonna be sick for the second time in the last 30 seconds. “If you faint, we do the same thing to Stanley over here.” As he said this, Patrick hauled Stan to his feet and held him back so that Stan was forced to watch. Bill could see panic in his eyes, along with tears. “And at the end, if you’re still alive,” Henry said, grinning wickedly, “then you’re going to thank me for my generosity. And if I don’t think you mean it, I’m gonna snap every single bone in your body until I do.” _

_ Bill saw Stan’s body shudder, saw him lunge forward for Bill, saw him get held back roughly by Patrick.  _

_ “Okay,” Bill whispered. _

 

“Bill? Bill.” Stan said, snapping his fingers in front of Bill’s face. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Stan leaned back once he was satisfied with the fact that he’d gotten Bill’s attention.

“Yeah. I-I’m fine.” He muttered, trying not to think about the events of that night anymore. Trying not to think about what had been carved into his hip, the blocky letters scarred there forever. “A-are we still talking about V-Victor?”

“Yeah.” Audra replied, leaning into his side, and Mike was the only one that noticed Stan’s face fall slightly, like it always did when Bill and Audra were together. “God knows our lives will be a lot less complicated without him.”

“Yours definitely will be,” Stan muttered, and Bill’s gaze shot to him. But Stan was staring pointedly at Audra, whose lips were parted in shock and anger. Bill looked over at Audra, and she looked back at him with guilt in her gaze.

“Bill-”

That was all he needed to understand fully what had happened. He stood up abruptly, anger running through him as he walked away. Audra stared at him, looking more angry with Stan than upset that Bill had finally figured it out. She got up, darting off after Bill. “Wait!”

It took only a couple seconds for Audra to catch up with Bill, but it was a long enough walk that they were away from the crowd. Anger raced through him.

“Bill, it’s not what you think,” Audra started, but Bill cut her off.

“I c-can connect a couple of dots, A-Audra. All the times t-th-hat your phone conveniently duh-died? All the times he just  _ h-h-happened _ to be around at school, lingering in classrooms? ‘H-helping you with h-homework’?” He stared at her, and she stayed silent. “Y-you slept with h-him!” He said furiously, a muscle in his jaw working as he fought to stay calm.

“I didn’t- it wasn’t like that-” she spluttered, trying to come up with something to say. 

Bill shut his eyes and exhaled quietly. “That’s o-okay. Now you can sleep with h-him all you w-w-want. We’re through.” He turned and stalked off, and Audra just stared after him. 

Bill walked all the way to the dock by himself, quiet and thinking. He knew the dangers of being out here, what with the serial killer and everything, but honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He liked the peace and quiet, and he needed a break from… everything. He sat down on the edge of the dock and pulled off his shoes and socks, before letting his feet hang over the edge and skim the water gently. He allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts, so much so that not even the sound of gentle footsteps snapped him out of it. 

A hand reached down and touched his shoulder softly, and though Bill jumped in surprise, it was just Stan. “Can I sit?” Stan asked gently, but didn’t wait for an answer before joining Bill on the edge.

There was a small silence, both boys just staring out over the murky water. Stan was the one who broke it first, voice gentle. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking over at Bill guiltily. Bill just sighed and didn’t respond for a long moment. 

“I d-don’t know.” He said finally, and it was the truth. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Because as much as it hurt, it didn’t surprise him, not really. And he didn’t feel upset as he knew he should about it. He didn’t really feel anything. Just indifferent. He gave another soft sigh, pulling his feet back up from over the edge and moving to sit criss cross. “S-Stan?” He said softly, blue eyes flicking up from the water once again to look over at the curly haired boy. “Thank you for t-tuh-telling me.” 

Looking surprised, Stan’s gaze also shot up from the water to meet Bill’s. “You’re not mad that I knew and never told you?”

Bill shook his head simply. “I could never b-be mad at you f-for telling me the truth. A-and V-Vuh-Victor probably w-w-would have beaten the sh-shit outta you.” He murmured. “Besides, it’s h-her fault, not y-yours.”

Stan looked relieved. “Okay. Thanks.” He gave Bill a small smile, and though he didn’t really feel like it, Bill gave one back. “Do you wanna go back to the party?” Stan asked, but Bill shook his head, laying down with his back on the dock and his gaze toward the sky. 

“I w-wanna stay here for a b-bit longer. You can g-go b-back if you want.” Bill replied, but instead of responding, Stan laid down next to him, shoulder to shoulder with Bill. They just stayed there and let silence wash over them, watching the stars peacefully. And Bill knew that he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.


	4. Hello, Eddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie deals with a hangover and learns some new information about Eddie. Beverly gives us another monologue about our serial killer, and Eddie gets a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit of a filler chapter, I apologize, but tomorrow, things are gonna get real.

Richie Tozier really did not handle hangovers well, and Beverly Marsh knew this fact firsthand. He was always grumpy in the mornings, and since he usually stayed over at her house, she had to deal with it. This morning he was especially moody, grumbling about it being “way too early in the morning for this shit” as Bev’s alarm for school went off. Bev made a noise of agreement, but got up, not nearly as hungover as Richie. In fact, she barely felt any pain. She slipped out the door, and when she got back to her room, Richie was still under the covers, awake but just barely. 

“Either you get up or I put these painkillers back,” she nudged him, waiting, and after another minute he groaned and sat up. His glasses were somewhere on the bed or on the floor, because he had fallen asleep with them on. 

Without saying a word, Richie stretched his hand out, waiting. Beverly smiled and put the painkillers in his hand, before giving him the glass of water she also brought with her. “You’re a lifesaver, Bev,” he said gratefully as he downed the Advil and the water. 

“I know,” she said with a grin. “Now go get dressed. I’m not going to be late because you have a hangover.” 

Richie got up and grabbed some clothes. He always had some stashed at Bev’s house, in case things ever got bad at his house, or if he just needed a break from everything. He had been over there a lot when the rest of the Losers had abandoned them, and occasionally Bev would find a shirt that had been Richie’s, before his major growth spurt at the end of 8th grade that left him about five or more inches taller than Bev. He would knock on Bev’s window, and Bev would always let him in. It didn’t matter if he was soaking wet from the rain or muddy. She always opened the window for him and let him in, ignoring the mess that was made on her floor. He would change into warm, dry clothes, and then he and Bev would just talk until one of them dozed off from exhaustion, usually Richie first. Sometimes it was the other way around, and Beverly would climb in through Richie’s window. 

Richie took the glass of water with him along with his clothes and went into the bathroom to change, while Beverly changed in her room. Faintly, she could hear Richie humming some rock song that she was sure she didn’t know.  Finally, she gave the door a knock to signal she was decent and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on her shoes. Richie came out a second or so after the knock, wearing black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt with a faint pattern on it, and a black leather jacket. He loved that thing, and Bev rarely saw him without it on.

“Your dad at work already?” Richie asked, hand pausing on the door handle. He knew what would happen if Beverly’s dad saw her with a boy in her room, and especially Richie. For some reason, adults seemed to always hate him. Bev nodded and Richie opened the door. 

Walking out behind Richie, Bev grabbed her keys. “Let’s go.”

 

~*~

 

“Richie Tozier?” Richie turned immediately, surprise lighting his gaze as Sheriff Hudson walked towards him. 

“Guilty.” He said with a grin, which immediately dropped. “Er. Not guilty, I just meant- uh, yes. Yes. That’s me.”

“You and your friend, Beverly Marsh, you guys have interests in Brandon James, right?” Richie just nodded. “You two wouldn’t mind dropping down by the station tomorrow, would you? Just so that I can ask you a few questions.”

“Will do, Officer.” Richie saluted with two fingers before he could stop himself, and then immediately dropped his hand. “Of course.”

“Good.” Sheriff Hudson walked off, and Beverly came jogging over almost immediately, glancing over at the Sheriff.

“What did he want?” Bev asked curiously, but looking concerned at the same time. Richie shrugged and gave a humorless laugh.

“He’s gonna question everybody, I’m sure, but I guess he decided to start with the genius IQ outcasts with an interest in serial killers.” He muttered, and Bev waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s not like he can lock us up for being curious about serial killers. We’ll be fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile, and Richie just shrugged. 

“He couldn’t possibly think you killed Greta, could he?” Richie glanced over at her. 

“Why not? I hated the way she treated you.” Bev scoffed. 

“Yeah, but  _ actually _ killing someone is different than  _ thinking _ of killing someone.”

“That’s tr-” she was cut off by Ben coming over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“You never told me how it ends,” he said, tilting his head inquisitively at her.

“How what ends?” She asked, but she looked amused, and like she knew exactly what he was talking about. Richie assumed that this was something they had talked about last night at the party, watching them curiously. 

“The town’s horror story. Is Victor really the one that killed Greta, or is Brandon James back?”

Richie grinned at Bev before turning and walking off, leaving her and Ben alone so that they could talk. 

“Well,” Bev said as she and Ben started walking to class, “You gotta remember that the whodunnit may not be what’s important in our story.”

Ben frowned. “So it’s more of a… whydunnit?” 

“Well, no. You need to forget it’s a horror story. That someone might die at every turn. You see, you have to care if the smokin’ hot english teacher seems a little too interested in his female students.” As she spoke, a bunch of basketball players passed them, wearing their jerseys to school since after school they had the big game. “You have to care if the team wins the game. You, uh…” She faltered briefly, looking around, and then spotted Bill and Audra talking, before Bill rolled his eyes and shut his locker door, walking in the other direction. “You have to care if the smart guy forgives the pretty, manipulative girl.” She gestured in Bill and Audra’s direction. 

Ben laughed slightly. “It sounds like Friday Night Lights.”

“ _ Exactly.  _ You root for them, you love them. So… when they’re all brutally murdered…” Bev turned to face Ben, her blue eyes focusing on his brown ones. “It hurts.”

 

~*~

 

Richie sat down on the stone bench outside of the school, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. He pulled up the video that had been posted on YouTube. While it hadn’t been taken down fully (just the “Sorry, this video isn’t available right now” sign on it), he couldn’t see the title of the video, what was on it, or how many views it had. But he could still see the comments. He scrolled through them one by one, grimacing slightly. He could ignore them, but he knew Ash wouldn’t be able to.

Ash went to a Catholic school, and Richie knew that there would be no escaping it there. Luckily, neither of his parents had seen the video yet, and Richie hated to think of what might happen to Ash if they did end up seeing it. But Richie also knew the dangers of Ash’s self thoughts, and he knew that Ash probably both hated Richie and himself at the moment. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Eddie sitting down next to him, a little space between them, and Eddie looking nervous once again. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Richie said back curiously, shutting his phone off and looking over at him. “Do you… need something?” He asked, raising eyebrow. He wasn’t saying it to be mean or anything, but even after what had happened yesterday (which, by the way, he still couldn’t seem to wrap his head around), he didn’t expect Eddie to just start talking to him again.

“I… couldn’t sleep last night.” At this, Richie just stared at him.

“‘Kay, and what does that have to do with me?”

“It… It has to do with… us.” He said slowly, and Richie felt his heart stop for a minute, nearly choking on air before forcing himself to take a deep breath and calm down. He knew that Eddie was just talking about how they used to be best friends, not about… 

“There is no ‘us’ anymore, Eddie. You may have invited me to Greta and Victor’s party, but I  _ really  _ don’t think we’re gonna go have a girl’s day anytime soon.” Richie gave a sarcastic smile, which faded away quickly. 

“I’m not Greta. Or Victor.” Eddie said quickly.

Richie snapped before he could stop himself. “Give it time,” he said angrily, and then guilt immediately flooded his senses, and he looked down.

Eddie shut his eyes, breathing shortening. After a minute, though, it evened back out, and Richie thought he saw Eddie’s lips move, like he was counting. Then Eddie spoke, and it was so soft that Richie nearly missed it. “I was there.” Richie’s gaze shot up, staring at him, as Eddie went on. “At the parking lot, I was… I was there.”

Richie felt like he had gotten punched in the stomach, all of the air going out of him. “You… you’re the one that filmed me?” 

“No, no! It wasn’t me, it was Greta, okay? We were just…” he trailed off on that part, and Richie’s gaze hardened. “I didn’t even realize it was you at firs-”

“Wait wait wait,” Richie cut Eddie off, and Eddie went dead silent, staring at Richie with a sort of desperation in his eyes for Richie to understand. “So this whole ‘Let’s be friends again’ thing was because you… what? You felt  _ guilty? _ ” Eddie started to shake his head, mouth opened to say something. Richie stopped him before he could, gaze cold and hard, a look that Eddie had never received from Richie before. “You absolute  _ dick.”  _

Richie got up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking away fast, before Eddie could say or do anything. Hurt washed over his whole body, along with anger. Richie felt the familiar burning sensation behind his eyes that signaled tears were on the way, but he forced them back, refusing to let them out.

~*~

 

Eddie couldn’t help the tears as he started to walk home, furious with himself at not expecting that. Of  _ course _ Richie would be pissed. Eddie would have been, too. He sniffed, walking down the street and trying to think of anything,  _ anything _ , that could get Richie to forgive him. Nothing came to mind, and he sighed miserably. There went getting Richie and Bev back as friends. There was no doubt in Eddie’s mind that Richie was going to tell Bev what had happened. He just hoped it didn’t also mess with Bev and Ben’s relationship. 

His phone went off, and Eddie sighed quietly, not really in the mood to answer it. He let it right until it was done, and relaxed, wanting some peace and quiet as he walked. Instead, though, his phone just went off again, and Eddie groaned before pulling it out of his pocket. The phone said  **_Unknown Number_ ** and he scowled. He answered the phone, annoyance in his voice. “Hello?”

_ “Hello, Eddie.”  _

“Who is this?” He asked, irritated.

_ “A friend.”  _

Fine, if they wanted to be that way, he didn’t care. “Sorry, buddy, I’m not in the mood.” He snapped, and moved to hang up. 

_ “Why are you crying?”  _ Eddie paused in his movements, stomach lurching.

“What?”

_ “I hate to see you so sad.”  _

“Are you  _ watching _ me?” Eddie stopped walking, spinning around to look at the street. He didn’t see anyone, though, no windows open, no one walking their dogs, nothing. In fact, the street was probably more empty than he had ever seen it. Unease raced through him, and he gripped the phone tighter.

_ “It’s what you want, isn’t it? On Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook. Perfect smiles, perfect lives. But I know the truth.”  _ The last part came out a snarl, and Eddie jumped.

“Who the hell is this?” He made false anger go into his voice, but he was terrified, thoughts going back to Greta’s murder. 

_ “I’m the one who’s gonna lift the mask.”  _ With that, whoever was on the other end hung up. Eddie heard the click on the other end and slowly took his phone away from his ear, trembling slightly. 

 

~*~

 

“I don’t know, Ben, I think about this stuff.” Beverly laughed slightly, sitting in her care, alone. She was talking to Ben over the phone, and he was asking her yet again about the murder. “You really wanna know how it ends?” She paused as Ben’s reply came through the phone, and then smiled. “Let me tell you.”

“Everyone has secrets. Everyone tells lies. And everyone is fair game. Until there’s no one left.” She hung up with that, and looked into the rear view mirror of her car for a brief minute at her reflection. Then she brushed her hair back, not noticing how, as she did so, something on her hand left a dark red streak across her forehead. 


	5. Another day, Another murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's another murder. A new character is introduced, and Beverly is questioned by the Sheriff. Richie has an encounter with Henry Bowers, and Stan and Bill talk to Audra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I do not at all see Audra as a bad person in the books! This is just a different her for the purpose of this story. ALSO!! I don't know if this is a trigger or not, but there will be a slight mention of suicide within the next couple chapters. It should be pretty brief, but I wanted to warn anyone just in case. There's also some homophobia, too. Most of those possible triggers are in the first part, so if you need to skip those, just scroll down until you see the ~*~ thing.

Ash scrolled through the comments on the YouTube video miserably, hugging his knees to his chest. He sat on his bed, a blanket wrapped around him, with his laptop open to the video’s comment section.

_ Faggot _

_ kill urself _

_ suck my dick _

It wouldn’t stop. He shut his eyes, breathing heavily. He tried not to let the tears flow, but it was hard. That stupid video. A bruise was on his cheekbone, another on his ribs. Cuts and scrapes were also on his forehead, chin, knees and hands. Before, he had seamlessly blended in to the crowd of people at school. Now, everybody stared at him. After school, Henry Bowers would find him, and well… everyone knew what happened with Henry Bowers.

His hand came up to his mouth to stifle a small sob. He couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or sadness, but nonetheless, he hated it. He hated feeling this weak. 

His phone went off, breaking the peaceful silence of his room, and he jumped, looking down at it. It was Richie. He grabbed it and clicked answer, holding it up to his ear. “Hello?”

_ “Hey.” _ His voice sounded weird, gruff and shaky.  _ “Did you get home okay?” _

“Yeah. Your voice sounds kind of weird.” He told him, holding back a small sniff so that Richie wouldn’t know he’d been crying. He wiped off the tears and shut his laptop, turning away from it.

_ “Must be a bad connection. Hold on.” _ Ash could hear shuffling on the other line, and then Richie’s voice returned to normal.  _ “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” _

“Must be a crap TV night, then. Nothing on.” 

_ “Why do you do that?” _ Richie interrupted, sighing.  _ “Put yourself down.” _

“It’s not just me.” Ash muttered bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. “Have you been online?”

_ “Ignore them.” _

“Yeah, you don’t go to a bitch-infested Catholic school.”

_ “Trust me, there’s a bitch infestation at my school, too. So… do you want some company?” _

Ash shook his head, even though Richie couldn’t see him. “Nah, it’s late.”

_ “What if I’m already here?”  _ There was a small thump, and Ash looked up, heart starting to race a little.

“What was that?” There was no answer from Richie, and Ash frowned. “I’m serious, Rich, my mom’s gonna be home soon.” There was still no answer, and Ash got up slowly, making his way over to where he thought he heard the noise. The closet. “Okay, if this is a coming out of the closet joke, it needs to be significantly less creepy.”

_ “Go ahead. Take a look.”  _ Richie answered finally.

Ash reached out, and sucked in a sharp breath before yanking open the closet door. He flinched automatically, as if waiting for something to happen, but nothing popped out at him or anything. In fact, there was nothing in the closet other than his clothes. He exhaled in relief. “Richie, you’re scaring me.”

_ “You’re fine.” _ Richie just sounded amused.  _ “Come out to our spot. It’s a beautiful night.” _

Ash glanced outside warily. His bedroom was on the second story, and he had a door that opened out to a second floor deck. There was also a white porch swing, where Richie and Ash would usually sit and talk. But when he looked out there, he couldn’t see anyone. Confused, he slowly walked out to the bench. “Richie?” He called out into the night, but there was no response. He put the phone back up to his ear. “Richie, you’re not out here.” After a pause, he attempted to make a joke, but tension was in his voice. “Romeo, romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”

There was no response from Richie, and Ash swallowed thickly as he looked at what seemed like a rope, tied around one of the columns on the balcony and hanging off. His voice was completely serious this time. “Richie, where are you?” 

He walked over to the rope and grabbed it shakily, starting to pull it up. When he finally got to the end of it, he saw what looked like a noose, and he took it into his hands, confused. Unfortunately for him, what he didn’t see was the dark figure behind him.

It grabbed his hands, the ones holding the noose, and before Ash knew what was happening, it pulled the noose around Ash’s neck. Then it gave Ash a huge shove, sending Ash toppling over the railing with a scream of surprise and fear. The rope pulled tight, and they heard a satisfying crack as Ash’s neck snapped, and everything went silent again. 

 

~*~

 

_ “For AQR Web Radio, welcome to Autopsy of a Crime. This is Nancy Wheeler, podcasting the murder investigation of Greta Bowie, day to day, as if unfolds. It’s been four days since this brutal slaying, and Sheriff Hudson is still looking for local Victor Criss as the main suspect. With this town’s bloodsoaked history, echoes of Derry’s homegrown serial killer Brandon James are everywhere. You can hear terrified locals walking the streets, wondering, ‘Could he be back?’” _

A hand reached out and touched Bill’s shoulder, making him jump. He looked over and saw it was just Stan and Eddie, and the tension went out of his shoulders quickly. He took out his earbuds.

“What’re you listening to?” Stan asked, glancing over at him as they walked towards the school. 

“Tha-at true cr-cruh-crime podca-ast. T-they’re covering Greta’s m-murder.”

“Autopsy of a Crime?” Ben asked as he joined them, grinning. Bill nodded. “Me too. I’m addicted. They have tons of followers, too.” 

“Hey, have you guys gotten any weird phone calls lately?” Eddie interrupted as he joined them, looking a tad bit freaked out. All of the Losers shook their heads, frowning. 

“Why?” Ben asked, and Eddie looked down, frowning. 

“I don’t know. This guy called and said that we pretend to have perfect lives, on Instagram and Facebook…” 

“Well, he must be ancient if he thinks we still use Facebook.” Stan snorted, and none of them really looked concerned about this phone call except Eddie. 

“L-look, i-it was probably j-just Henry being a douche.”

“Yeah.” Eddie closed his eyes, nodded, and opened them again, looking a little bit more relieved. If Bill didn’t think anything of it, than it probably wasn’t anything, right? “Yeah, you’re right.”

~*~

 

“So. Brandon James.” Sheriff Hudson started, and Beverly looked at him expectantly, sitting in a small leather chair on one side of his desk. On the other side, the Sheriff stared back at her as if she should be telling him every single secret she had, one by one. “I mean, do you really think it’s healthy to have an obsession with a serial killer?”

“Brandon’s actually classified as a mass murder. He killed them all in one night.” She said matter-of-factly, not intimidated at all by Sheriff Hudson. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she just stared back at him silently, waiting for him to ask another question. 

“Okay. Did you ever try to contact anyone related to the events of that evening? Halloween of ‘94?”

Bev paused to think about her answer carefully, leaning back. “When I was in 7th grade, I did a project on Nature vs. Nurture. Brandon James was the obvious choice. Yeah, I exchanged a few emails with his brother, Troy. And of course, I tried to figure out who the mystery girl, Daisy, was. You know, the girl Brandon was in love with?” 

“Any luck?” He asked her, eyes narrowing.

“No.” She said shortly. “None of my theories panned out.”

“Did you ever try to contact Zack Denbrough about it?” He asked her, and Bev could tell that this was one of the questions he had wanted to ask since the conversation had started. 

“No. No way. Survivor stalking is seriously rude. Plus, Bill’s…” she hesitated, deciding not to bring up their history. “Bill’s in my class. Not that I wouldn’t love to ask him what it was like to face off against Brandon James, but, you know. Boundaries.”

“Okay.” There was a pause as Sheriff Hudson checked something on his desk- probably the list of questions that he wanted to ask Bev- but after a moment, he nodded to himself and looked up at her. “I think we’re done here.”

“Okay.” Bev grabbed her messenger bag, ready to get out of there as quickly as possible. As she was walking out, head down, she bumped into someone. When she looked up, her gaze locked with Kieran Wilcox.

 

~*~

 

“‘I miss you so much, Greta’,” Richie read off one of the signs on Greta’s memorial. “‘I love you and I hope you rest in peace. Love Miranda.’ Isn’t that the girl Greta fat shamed into some questionable Guatemala liposuction?” 

“Sounds like our Greta.” Beverly agreed grimly.

The memorial was huge, covering the whole side of the fence that surrounded the school. Flowers were woven throughout the chain-link fence, with a huge sign that said  **WE LOVE YOU, GRETA!** on it. A picture of Greta’s face was up there too. Dozens and dozens of signs were hung up on the fence or sat underneath. There was a huge whiteboard that the school had put on the memorial, so that anyone could write anything that they wanted to about Nina on it. Most of it was bullshit, though, and everyone knew it. That was the thing about Derry, he guessed. No one gave a shit about anyone but themselves and making themselves look good.

“How would you describe Greta’s relationship with the other students?” Said a voice from behind them, and both Beverly and Richie turned. The voice belonged to none other than Nancy Wheeler, who was talking to the principal of the school.

“As you can see, Greta was well loved and very popular.” The principal responded, and Nancy nodded slowly, putting on a fake smile. 

“Of course. Well, thank you for your time.” Nancy said, and turned away from the principal, scanning the place for other people to talk to.

Beverly turned away from her. “Who’s that?” She asked Richie curiously, but another voice interrupted before Richie could reply.

“I’m Nancy Wheeler. I’m doing a story for-” Nancy started, a smile on her face, and Richie cut her off with more excitement than Bev had seen all day.

“Autopsy of a Crime! Your show is totally addictive.” 

“Thank you.” Nancy sounded surprised, but also pleased. “A fellow crime geek?”

“Totally!” Richie grinned. “We both are. This is Beverly Marsh,” Richie gestured to Bev, and she gave a half wave, “And I’m Richie Tozier.”

“Richie Tozier… you look familiar.” Nancy studied him, trying to figure out where he was from. Her head was tilted, gaze focused.

“You probably saw the video.” His tone turned sour, and Bev nudged him gently, pressing into his side just slightly in a reassuring way. 

If Nancy saw the tension in the air, she didn’t say anything about it. “So, I’m trying to get past all of the faux BFF BS, and I’m trying to get a picture of the real Greta Bowie… did either of you know her?”

“Yeah.” Bev said before Richie could say anything, and Richie looked down at her in surprise. “Greta was a stone cold bitch who got what she deserved.” Richie’s eyes widened almost comically, and he looked over at Nancy to see her reaction to that. 

“That is pretty clear,” Nancy said, looking sort of amused. She looked over at Beverly almost as an afterthought. “Can I quote you on that?” 

“No. No. She’s just… saying words.” Richie said immediately, forcing a smile, not wanting that put out on the podcast that most people listened to to get their information about the murder now. He didn’t need Bev to seem like the next likely suspect in Greta’s murder. 

“And what about you? You have any thoughts about the murder of Greta Bowie?”

Richie’s eyes lit up with a childish excitement. Bev smiled fondly. “You know, a few.”

From a distance away, Richie heard an angry shout from Henry Bowers. “Someone’s ass is dead!”

“But maybe some other time.” Richie said quickly, slinging an arm over Beverly’s shoulder and starting to walk away with her, fast. 

“Was it you, Tozier?” Henry snarled as he walked over, and Richie pretended to be playing on his phone, distracted. 

“What?” Richie asked innocently, knowing that if he were to be a smartass right now, teachers or no teachers, he would end up with more things broken than just his glasses. 

“My truck,” Henry snapped angrily, shoving his phone into Richie’s face. On it there was a picture of a black truck that indeed belonged to Henry, and in red spray paint it said  **DOOSH** on the side. “It went viral.”

“Funny-” Bev started, but Henry reached out and gave her a shove with one hand, sending her a step back. 

“Can it, Lesbo.” He hissed at her, and then turned back to Richie. He grabbed Richie by the front of his shirt and slammed him back into the brick wall hard. Richie’s head hit the wall with a crack, and Richie stifled a quiet groan of pain.

“Henry, leave him alone-” Bev started, but her voice was muffled by talking as a small crowd started to gather around Henry and Richie. Beverly was pushed back into the crowd, any chance of her helping Richie leaving with her.

“Do you know anything about this?” Henry hissed.

Richie shook his head, but this time he wasn’t able to help what came out of his mouth. “No. But it is a statement of the decline of our public schools-” His voice came out in a high, matter-of-fact tone that he usually used for his nerd voice. 

Henry grabbed a fistful of Richie’s curls and slammed his head back into the brick wall again. “That’s the  _ wrong answer.” _

Richie clenched his teeth to keep from making another noise of pain. “I swear, I didn’t touch your truck.”

“If I find out you’re lying, I swear to god, you are  _ dead _ .” Henry pulled Richie away from the wall, then slammed him against it again to emphasize his point. Then, before Richie could recover from the momentary daze of his head slamming against the wall, Henry dropped him. Richie slid to the ground with a grunt of pain, reaching to touch the back of his head. It was wet with blood, and Richie could feel the pounding headache already beginning to set it. He believed Henry, and knew that Henry wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. He’d seen it almost happen before. 

Bev forcefully shoved her way to the front of the now-dispersing crowd and offered Richie a hand, which he used to pull himself up. “So…” Bev started slowly, and then a slow smile started to spread on her face. 

“The spelling of douche was an interesting choice,” was all Richie said in response, looking over at her, and Beverly just grinned, proud of herself. 

“Yeah, I was hoping he’d think it was some idiot that did it. The spray stuff definitely sucks, though. I got it all over me. I looked like Carrie at prom by the time I was done.” 

“Well, I think that it was a job well done.” Richie grinned down at her, and Beverly smiled back up at him. And right there in that moment, Richie felt like it was just the two of them against the world. And he was okay with that.

 

~*~

 

“I just… I don’t know. I don’t feel like Victor was the one that did it.” Mike sighed, giving a shrug.

“I-I don’t know. I-I’m just saying, h-he d-d-definitely wasn’t the sa-anest person.” Bill responded, and as they turned the corner, they ran into Audra. Bill’s mood immediately seemed to sour, and Mike glanced over at him, mouthing a ‘Good luck’ before turning and walking away. He wasn’t about to get in the middle of that.

“Bill, did you get my texts?” Audra asked him, sounding a little desperate. Bill made a noise of irritation and turned, walking past her.

“Yeah, I-I got them.” 

“Look, I just want a chance to explain, okay?” Audra said, moving to block his way so that he couldn’t just leave the conversation. Bill leaned against a locker, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know this isn’t an excuse, but… the thing with Victor? I think he came on to me because he felt threatened by you.” Audra said, as if that would make it all better. Bill just stared at her.

“So y-y-you’re saying that i-it’s  _ my _ fault t-th-hat  _ you _ cheated o-on me?” Bill said slowly.

“No! It’s just- you know how he played people.”

“Y-yeah. W-w-we  _ both _ knew. And I t-th-thought that we had s-suh-something b-b-buh-b-” He stopped, frustrated, and took a deep breath. “B-better than that.”

Audra grabbed Bill’s hand, and Bill pulled it away immediately, ignoring the hurt look on her face. “This doesn’t have to be over, Bill.”

“Hey.” A voice interrupted them, and Bill turned to see Stan. He felt relief was over him, but Stan wasn’t talking to him, he was talking to Audra.

“Do you have a problem?” Audra asked, annoyed. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and gave Stan a cold look, one that usually intimidated whoever she was dealing with. Unfortunately for her, she underestimated Stan. Stan gave her one of those looks right back, gaze icey and hard. Audra ended up dropping hers first. 

“That’s my locker.” Stan nodded to the locker that Bill was leaning on, and ignored Bill’s confused look. Bill moved off the locker though, and Stan moved to stand by it before turning back to Audra, now in between her and Bill. “And I’m pretty sure he’s done talking to you.” 

“Stay out of it.” She glared at Stan again, but this time it wasn’t as intense as before, as if she already knew she would lose if she tried. 

“A-Audra, s-s-stop it.” Bill muttered, and Stan shot Audra a triumphant look. Bill kicked Stan’s foot lightly to tell him to knock it off, but both Stan and Bill knew that Bill really didn’t mind Stan. It was Audra he wanted to stop talking and to leave.

Audra scowled, but after a minute she straightened her back and stalked past them, through the halls. 

“Is t-th-his really your l-locker?” Bill asked, although he already knew the answer, amusement in his voice. He was grateful that Stan had come and shooed Audra away, because he didn’t know how far into the conversation he would have made it before his stutter would have taken over. And to Audra, that was a weakness to be exploited. She would have targeted any guilt that he had over being so cold to her and used it to her advantage to get him back. Bill hated how easily she was always able to manipulate him.  _ Never again. _

“Is that really your girlfriend?” Stan asked back, raising his eyebrows and scoffing. 

“N-not anymore.” Bill responded, leaning against the locker again and sighing. He pretended that he didn’t see the small smile that Stan gave at that.

“Okay, well, I’ve gotta get to my  _ actual  _ locker and get my stuff for class. See you later, Bill.” Stan smiled and turned, walking down the hall. As Bill turned to watch Stan go, he saw Eddie eyeing Richie, as if debating whether or not to go talk to him. Richie was purposefully ignoring Eddie, Bill could tell, because as soon as Eddie started to walk over there, Richie slammed his locker door shut and walked away fast, weaving throughout the crowd of students so that Eddie lost sight of him.


	6. Paranoid much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Either the next chapter or the one after that might be a little short (it should still be around 2,500 words though) because school just started again for me and I already have a lot of homework, and I would prefer to give you guys a shorter chapter but still every day than not posting one at all but have it be regular length when it's eventually posted, you know? Anyway, sorry about that.

An hour later, Eddie waited patiently by Richie’s locker, fingers tapping nervously. Hopefully, Richie wouldn’t turn away from him the second he saw him again. In his head, Eddie went over what he was going to say to Richie, lips moving slightly as he pictured the conversation in his head, and how it would hopefully go. It was a helpful tip to get him to calm down. While it may have sounded like it was going to do the opposite of help, it really was one of the reasons that Eddie was able to talk to more and more people. Basically, he imagined the worst things that could happen, so that he could be prepared for it. In this case, two things could happen, and Eddie wasn’t quite sure which one he really thought was worst.

Situation one would be that Richie flat out ignored him. Richie, more commonly known as Trashmouth Tozier, wasn’t usually able to shut up, so Eddie doubted that that would happen. Still, it made him nervous. It was his own fault that he had to go two years without talking to Richie, and now that he had finally gotten to talk to him at least a little bit, he didn’t want to lose him all over again. And he knew that if he didn’t play this right, that was exactly what would happen. 

Situation two would be that Richie would turn on him and start yelling, possibly throwing his notebooks and books to the ground out of frustration. The possibility that Richie might hit or shove him crossed his mind, but only briefly. It was gone faster than it had arrived. Richie would never hurt him, no matter how pissed off he got. In fact, Richie probably wouldn’t even throw his books like Eddie had predicted earlier. Richie just wasn’t a violent person overall. He hated violence, in fact, and Eddie knew this. So yeah, Eddie guess that his best bet was probably on situation two, with Richie turning on him and yelling. 

When Richie got there, though, his face was steely and calm, almost as if he had expected Eddie. He didn’t acknowledge Eddie’s presence, though, spinning his locker combination casually. After a second or two he opened up the locker, starting to grab the books that he needed for his next class and putting his old books away. While he did so he also grabbed his headphones and some gum. Eddie saw this as his chance.

“Richie, can we please talk?” Eddie asked quietly, gaze on Richie. He forced himself to sound a lot more confident than he actually was, and he saw Richie give a sigh. Richie didn’t turn to face him for a long moment, eyes shut, and briefly Eddie wondered if Richie had even heard him. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world right now.

“What’s there to say?” Richie said, a rhetorical question. He didn’t bother to keep his voice down like Eddie had done, and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see Bill and Mike glance over at the two of them curiously. Neither of them came over, though, and Eddie was silently thankful. Richie continued. “You and Greta filmed me and Ash. She posted it all over the web, you lied about it, and now you feel guilty.” He said shortly, shutting his locker door. “There. We talked.”

“You’re right, I didn’t stop Greta from filming you, and I should have.” Eddie agreed with Richie, brown eyes anxious. “But can we please find a way to move past this?” When Richie didn’t look convinced, Eddie said quietly, “I mean, pretty soon there’s gonna be a new headline, you know?” 

Richie let out a bark of harsh laughter, turning to face Eddie. “You’re telling me I should be comforted by the fact that somebody  _ else _ is bound to be humiliated?” Eddie shrank back just slightly, guilt and anxiety starting to make his chest tighten. He opened his mouth to respond, but Richie kept going. “Those comments aren’t going away, Eddie. And Ash can’t just ignore them like I can.” Richie sighed, looking slightly upset now. “He won’t even text me back.” 

“Richie, I’m sor-” Eddie was cut off by his phone going off at the same time as Richie’s. Both pairs of brown eyes connected in surprise and curiosity as other phones went off as well, all within a minute or less of each other. Slowly, both Richie and Eddie pulled out their phones. On it, there was a video playing on loop. It was someone wearing the Brandon James mask, a white face painted in a silent scream. The figure wore a black cloak around them so nothing else was visible but the mask, and in the background you could see a pool. In it, Greta Bowie’s body floated, a huge cut across her back. As blood leaked from it, it stained the water red. Above the video it said  **PAYBACK’S A BITCH** in bold, red letters.

Richie’s voice had dropped all of its hostility and coldness, now just sounding slightly dazed, as he said, “I guess you’ve got your new headline.”

 

~*~

 

“Okay, guys, phones down.” Mr. Branson said with slight irritation.

“This Brandon James gif put us on the map, Mr. B.” Richie said. “I mean, we’ve got like, 7 trending hashtags right now.”

“Maybe you should focus more on your studies and less on Derry web buzz.” Mr. Branson said, rolling his eyes. 

“Who can resist the murder selfie?” Someone in the back of the class said with a snicker, and Richie rolled his eyes. 

“That’s what the murderer’s counting on.” He said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he even realized it. That happened a lot. He looked over at Mr. Branson as if for permission to go on, sitting up further in his desk. 

Mr. Branson just looked amused. “Alright Will Graham, what is this killer’s desire?”

“Well,” Richie started, thinking out loud. “Murder’s a lonely game, you know?” The whole class seemed to lean forward in anticipation. They were quite used to Richie and Bev’s monologues, and while none of them would admit it outside of the classroom, they were pretty interesting. “I mean, say you’re the killer, okay? You sneak into Greta’s house-” at Greta’s name, a couple of classmates cringed, but Richie ignored them. “-You skulk around for a bit, scare her, and then you kill her. Boom. But then what? You take a victory lap around the pool? You just stand there, watching the blood spread out in the water, thinking crazy guy thoughts?” Richie paused, glancing over at Beverly. With a smile, she picked up right where he left off.

“It’s no good when he’s the only one left watching. It’s the age of Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr. We need to share the things we do, or it’s like it never happened.” She opened her mouth to continue, but another phone chimed in the room, and everyone in the class looked over.

“Phones off, Jake.” Mr. Branson said with annoyance.

“Sorry, Mr. B,” he mumbled distractedly. “But… my friend from Saint Dominic’s just texted me. A guy that went there died.”

Richie went rigid in his chair. He remembered talking to Eddie less than an hour ago about Ash.  _ He hasn’t even texted me back _ . He felt like he was gonna throw up. Quickly, he said, “I have to… um… go to the bathroom,” he muttered, grabbing his phone and walking out of the classroom without permission. He opened the classroom door and slipped out quickly, not caring that the door banged shut behind him. He walked out into the empty hallway, pulling up news article after news article about what had happened. There, on the front page of the very first one, was a picture of Ash’s face. Richie squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against the lockers.  _ Oh god, oh god, oh god. _

He tried to focus on the feeling of the cold lockers, pressed against his forehead. He felt like he was burning up, and everything was too hot and too loud. He didn’t know whether he was more upset or scared. Ash’s only connection to Greta had been the video and Richie. And now both Ash and Greta were dead. This mean that Richie was next?

He looked back down at the article, actually reading through it this time. What he read though was even worse than what he had originally thought, that Ash had been murdered. What had happened instead was that Ash had…

Richie gagged slightly. There was no comedy, no humor, nothing that could be made into a joke from this. Ash had hung himself from his ceiling fan.

A hand touched his shoulder blade gently and Richie jerked himself away from it, breathing heavily. It was Eddie. “Richie-” Eddie started, but Richie cut him off, holding back tears.

“They found him hanging from his ceiling fan,” Richie said, voice breaking on the fourth word. He saw Eddie’s eyes widen and fill with guilt. _  All because of that stupid video. _ “He’s dead.” Richie said weakly, and turned away from Eddie, walking off.

~*~

 

Beverly walked over to where Richie was sitting outside of the counselor's office, sitting down beside him in one of those small, plastic chairs. Richie didn’t really fit in them too well, limbs too long and overall just looking really awkward in it. He looked over at her miserably, and she sighed softly. Richie hadn’t know Ash too well romantically, she knew, but she also knew that Richie had liked him a lot. And besides being Richie’s (boyfriend? Friend with benefits? She didn’t really know) whatever, Ash had also been Richie’s friend. He had started off as a hook up and afterwards Richie had gotten to know him better.

“You going home?” She asked Richie softly, and Richie nodded.

“Yeah. Mom’s coming to pick me up,” he muttered softly, and cracked a small smile, though Bev knew there was no real meaning behind it. “According to the counselor, I am officially distraught.”

“Right.” She gave a smile too, but it didn’t have any meaning behind it, either. It faded away quickly. “I’m sorry about Ash.”

Richie gave a shaky sigh. “Well, our relationship wasn’t even legal under the bylaws of Derry’s school code, so.” At this, Beverly gave a real smile, even though it was small and tentative.

“Gay rights joke.” She raised her eyebrows, and then exhaled gently and wrapped an arm around Richie, tugging him close. Even though he was taller than her, he rested his head on her, shutting his eyes and trying to calm down, taking deep breaths. 

 

~*~

 

“My friend Kaden goes to Saint Dominic’s. Apparently Ash was just… a train wreck.” Stan murmured softly. Eddie glanced over at him, not feeling any better with that statement.

“Stan, he just killed himself.” He muttered softly. “And it’s my fault.”

“Y-you can’t blame y-yourself, E-E-Eddie.” Bill said as they walked down the hall together.

“I was the one in the parking lot with Greta. I  _ let _ it happen.” Eddie said, stress evident. “I-” He stopped himself and breathed out harshly. “I’m sorry, I just- I need a minute.” He murmured, turning away from them and walking to the bathroom. He hoped he would get some peace and quiet there, so that he could clear his mind and actually think about what had just happened. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to work. As soon as he walked in, he could hear voices.

“Whoever posted that video has even more blood on their hands now,” some guy said, and another one scoffed in agreement.

“Yeah. It looks like we’ve got a new Victor.”

Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth, backing out of the bathroom.

 

~*~

 

After school, Bill headed straight to his afternoon job at the cafe downtown. He liked it there- usually it was nice and peaceful. There were very rarely lots of people. Today there was almost no one in the little place, except for a girl that seemed to have settled down for the moment there and a couple in the corner. The girl had brown, wavy hair that she had pulled back in a ponytail. She had a pretty face, with blue eyes that looked bright and excited as she typed away on her computer. An empty coffee cup sat by her, and since Bill had to clean up anyway, he walked over to her.

“C-Can I take t-th-this from you?” He asked, nodding to the empty cup. The girl seemed to snap out of her world, blue gaze looking away from the computer and up at him, instead. Bill blinked slightly as soon as her gaze met his. He swore he could recognize those blue eyes from somewhere, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of it. The girl smiled at him.

“Of course, thank you. Sorry, I’ve kind of set up shop here. If your boss is really strict about that, I can totally buy a breakfast burrito or something.”

Bill squinted at her for a moment. “I-I know your v-vuh-voice. You d-d-do that Autopsy of a C-crime thing, r-right?”

The girl smiled. “You have a good ear. I’m Nancy Wheeler.” There was a moment of pause, and then Nancy said, “You’re Bill Denbrough, right?” 

“Y-yeah, how d-d-did you know?” Bill frowned slightly, and Nancy looked slightly embarrassed.

“Research? I’m doing a report on-”

“The m-muh-murder. Yeah, I kn-know. I’ll l-let you get b-back to it.” Bill started to turn away, but Nancy reached out and stopped him. Immediately though, her hand retreated, looking embarrassed again. Secretly, Bill was thankful that she had withdrawn her hand. He liked personal space.

“Your dad is Zack Denbrough? The one survivor of the Brandon James attack?” Nancy asked tentatively, though it didn’t really sound like a question, it was more like a statement. 

“I a-actually d-don’t talk about t-th-that.” Bill said quietly.

“Sorry.” Nancy said immediately, looking guilty, but only for a brief second. “I’m just… trying to see if there’s any connection between what happened then and what’s happening now. No agenda, just the truth.” Nancy stared up at him innocently, but Bill could see what she was doing. She was trying to push him to tell her any information he had, but trying to be subtle about it. Trying and failing. After a minute of silence- Bill wasn’t about to tell her _ anything _ \- she tried to lighten up the mood a little, giving a hesitant smile. “I also have a severe caffeine addiction.”

“O-okay. Well, respect my p-pr-privacy, and I’ll k-kuh-keep you caffeinated.” 

“Fair enough.” Nancy said after a moment, and Bill took the empty coffee cup before turning and walking away.

 

~*~

 

A few hours later, Bill waved goodnight to the last person working at the coffee shop besides him. He was supposed to lock up tonight, and while he was exhausted, he hadn’t complained. He was new to this job still, and didn’t want to lose it already.

The last thing that he had to do before closing was take out the trash, and tiredly he dumped it all into the large, plastic garbage bag before moving to the exit and taking it outside. The dumpster outside sat in the corner of the alleyway outside, away from view if any customers walked by. Bill walked toward it, already starting to feel uncomfortably warm from the summer weather as he threw the black garbage bag in the dumpster. As soon as he shut the dumpster lid though, Bill heard the sound of a beer bottle smashing, and he whirled around. 

“H-hello?” He called out warily, already starting to back toward the cafe door. He wasn’t planning to stick around very long- he didn’t want to get mugged, or worse, for it to be Henry and Patrick messing around back here. He knew they wouldn’t mind torturing him, no matter how late at night it was. There was no response, though. Bill turned away from the door, scanning the alley briefly, and as he did, the door to the coffee shop slammed closed. Bill whirled back around and grabbed the handle, trying to pull it open to no avail. That door locked automatically every time it closed so that no one could try to sneak in through the back. “Sh-Sh-Shit,” he muttered, mentally cursing himself for being paranoid. He had probably just imagined the bottle smashing sound. 

He turned around again, starting to make his way towards the end of the alleyway so that he could go back in through the shop’s front door. After walking a couple steps, though, Bill heard another pair of footsteps walking behind him. He spun around so fast he nearly fell over, and he felt paralyzed with fear as a hooded figure stepped out from the shadows. While Bill didn’t see any mask like Brandon James, he knew somehow that this was the same person that killed Greta. He picked up a wooden plank from the ground, holding it out in front of him like a baseball bat. Slowly, Bill started to back away from them, hoping against hope that this was a dream. He thought he saw the glint of a knife in the figure’s hand, and he stumbled back a few more steps. This brought him out of the alley, and he hadn’t even realized that it had felt like the walls had been closing in on him until he was out in the open. But out in the open, he also felt vulnerable. 

The figure started to walk towards him again, and Bill half ran and half stumbled back to the coffee shops front. His back was towards the street, and he was completely focused on the opening of the alleyway, sure that any minute now the figure would come out and run at him with the knife. When a hand touched his shoulder from behind, Bill didn’t hesitate to turn around fast, swinging the wooden plank like a baseball bat at where the attacker’s head would be.

Luckily, Stanley Uris ducked just in time, the wooden plank smashing into the wall near where his head had been less than a second ago. “Bill? What the hell?” He stared at Bill with wide eyes, looking ready to duck again in case Bill took another swing from some reason.

“S-Stan? What’re you d-d-doing here?”

“I got your text.” Stan responded, and slowly stood up when he realized that Bill wasn’t gonna try and hit him again.

“T-tuh-text? I d-didn’t send you a t-text.” Bill put the wooden plank down warily, gesturing for Stan to follow him as he ducked back into the coffee shop. Unease still ran through him, but he tried not to think about the alley. It had probably just been his imagination or something.

“Yes you did, Bill.” Stan said, confusion in his voice as he pulled out his phone. He clicked on Bill’s contact, and a text from him said 

_ Bill: i have work tonight. meet me after? _

“I n-nuh-never sent that.” Bill felt goosebumps race along his arms, starting to get freaked out now. After what had happened in the alley, he just wanted to go home and forget about all of this. 

“Okay.” Stan said, decided to drop it, as if he could tell how freaked out Bill was getting by all of this. “It doesn’t matter. It was probably Henry or Patrick playing some prank.” After a moment, Bill nodded and allowed himself to relax. 

“You wanna finish locking up here, and then we can walk back to your place?” Stan asked, sitting down on the leather couch. Bill nodded and gave a grateful smile. Stan knew him well- he really didn’t wanna walk home alone after what had just happened.

“Th-thanks, Stan,” he mumbled, and finished wiping down tables and cleaning everything up before he grabbed the keys. “Let’s go.” He followed Stan out the door, locking it behind him as he did so. They walked in silence up to Bill’s house, but it was nice. Stan’s presence was comforting, and slowly, Bill felt all of the tension from what had happened start to slip out of him. Eventually, it was all gone, and he was smiling slightly to himself as he and Stan walked. Soon, though, they ended up back at Bill’s house. 

Stan was silent for a moment, before turning to Bill. He gave a smile. “See you tomorrow?” Bill nodded, giving him a smile back.

“Th-thanks again, S-Stan.” 

Stan just nodded, the smile never fading away, and turned around, walking back the way he came. Bill stood there, watching him go until he faded into the shadows. Bill gave a quiet sigh, a content smile on his face as he opened his front door and ducked inside.


	7. The Game

Stan woke up to the sound of quiet but rapid knocks on his window, and groggily he sat up. “The hell?” He mumbled sleepily, walking over to the window. Blinking a few times, he could finally see Bill outside of his window, dressed in all black and somewhat blending in to the shadows behind him. “Bill?” He asked as he opened the window, and Bill stumbled into the room.

Stan shut the window and turned to face Bill, but as soon as he did, Bill burst into tears. “I’m s-s-suh-suh-s-” it didn’t take Stan very long to realize what Bill was trying to say.

“Sorry? What for?” He murmured, sitting down on his bed and gesturing for Bill to do the same. Bill did, and Stan grabbed a box of tissues that was sitting on his bedside table, handing the box to Bill. 

“F-for waking y-y-you.” Bill said miserably, and Stan could see that he was shaking. He wanted to reach out and hug him, but he didn’t move, letting Bill get everything out first. “I-I just d-duh-didn’t know who e-else to g-g-go t-t-to.” Stan could tell that Bill was holding something back, but Bill didn’t seem to want to say anything else, so Stan moved closer and wrapped his arms around Bill, hugging him tight. 

“What happened, Bill?” He asked softly, and Bill just shook his head, not wanting to say. “Okay,” He nodded, not willing to push Bill to tell him what had caused him to show up at his window at 3 AM. “Do you wanna stay here for the rest of the night?” At this, Bill gave a small nod, and Stan gave one, too. “Okay.”

Stan let go of Bill for a brief moment, and even as he did, he saw Bill tensing up again. “Lay down,” he prodded, and Bill did, pulling the blanket over himself. Stan laid down next to him and held him tight again. He felt Bill relax in his arms, and he got comfortable. He didn’t mind staying like that for the entire night, even if he got sore, if it meant that Bill would get some sleep. He thought about how recently, Bill had bags under his eyes every day. 

“G-goodnight, St-Stan.” Bill mumbled softly, and Stan gave a quiet smile as Bill started to drift off. Hoping that Bill was asleep enough to not notice what Stan was doing, Stan pressed a gentle kiss to Bill’s temple.

“Goodnight, Bill.”

 

~*~

 

“The injuries just don’t make sense from where he was hanging.” The medical examiner, Sharon Denbrough, looked over at Sheriff Hudson with a frown. 

“You mean hanging from his ceiling fan?”

“Exactly,” she nodded. “His neck snapped. He would’ve had to have fallen from much higher up for that to happen.” They both collectively looked back at Ash’s body, and then at each other again.

“Which means it’s possible that Ash didn’t commit suicide.”

“Well, I’d have to finish the autopsy to be sure, but… yeah.” 

 

~*~

 

“Sports. Yay,” Bev said with false enthusiasm as she and Richie sat on the bleachers, watching the football game. Richie gave her a small shove, though a grin was on his face. 

“You know we have to record the game and post the best moments. You didn’t have to be here.” Richie raised an eyebrow, and Beverly just shook her head.

“And leave you all alone with these jerks after what happened yesterday? I think the fuck not.” She laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”

“That makes two of us,” Richie agreed, pulling out his phone as it chimed and handing the video camera to Bev for a minute. It was a text from Eddie.

_ Eddie: Can you meet me under the bleachers? We need to talk. _

His phone chimed again.

_ Eddie: Please. _

Richie exhaled softly, putting his phone away without even replying. “It’s Eddie. He wants me to meet him.”

“...And you’re waiting for what, exactly?”

“He’s an asshole,” Richie said in response. “Why should I go meet him? He posted that video.”

“Okay, first of all, he didn’t post that video, Greta did. I doubt that he would have been able to stop her, and you know it. Second of all, he’s trying to fix things, Rich. At least he told you that he did it, instead of lying about it and pretending it never happened, right? He was being straight with you. Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh, Bev, you know I’m not very good at doing anything straight,” Richie grinned and Beverly rolled her eyes. 

“Beep beep, Richie. I’m serious. Not that you’re very good at that, either.” She said, elbowing his side. “I know you miss him, even if you don’t want to. And it’s obvious that he misses you. And I know you don’t hate him as much as you pretend to, even though you want to. So go fix things with him, yeah? Things may never go back to how they used to be, but you can make it better. Don’t you want him back?” 

Richie stayed silent for a long time, and Bev thought that he might just ignore her and keep watching the game. Instead, he sighed and got up. “I hate it when you’re right.” Bev grinned, and Richie pushed her lightly again. “And I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she said nonchalantly. “You love me.” At this, Richie shot her a grin too, but it had less of his usual enthusiasm, mainly because the prospect of going to meet Eddie was making him nervous. He pulled out his phone as he made his way off the bleachers. 

**_Richie: I’ll be there._ **

 

~*~

 

Stan knew it could have definitely been worse, and he was thankful that it hadn’t been. It didn’t look like anything was broken for either of the boys that sat in front of him, though Bill’s nose was bleeding quite heavily, and Ben was definitely gonna have a black eye tomorrow. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ben said as he touched his eye gingerly. Bill didn’t say anything at all, in fact, he hadn’t in the past 30 minutes that they had been there, and Stan was starting to get worried. Bill looked really out of it, holding Stan’s jacket up to his nose as he waited for the bleeding to stop. Stan wondered how he’d let this happen. He himself was unscathed, as he had gotten there just in time, as Henry and Patrick were leaving. They were probably heading to the game, but had stopped when they had seen Ben and Bill, and now, well…

Stan sighed, crouching down next to Ben. “Let me see it,” he said, voice soft with guilt, and Ben pulled his away from his eye. It was starting to swell up, and was turning an angry red color that didn’t suit Ben’s face very well. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, pulling away from Ben. He could also see a scrape on Ben’s cheekbone from getting pushed to the ground, but other than that the boy wasn’t hurt very much. Stan turned to examine Bill instead now. Bill’s nose was still bleeding heavily, and Stan was more worried about how much blood Bill was losing than he was about the stains that were sure to be in his jacket now. Bill also had a faint bruise beginning to form around his throat, and Stan swallowed hard. 

“I-It’s okay, Stan, r-ruh-really. It’s n-n-not your fault.” Bill said reassuringly, voice muffled and sounding slightly strange because he was pinching his nose.

Stan had left for just a second-  _ a second- _ to grab his phone from his house. When he had come back, Bill and Ben were nowhere to be found. He had jogged a little ways, calling out their names. Henry and Patrick hadn’t been there when Stan had arrived, but Stan knew it was them, and Ben had confirmed it a minute later.

“If I had been here, they wouldn’t have attacked you because we outnumber them. So it is my fault, Bill-” he started, but Bill cut him off.

“B-Bullshit.” He stated, glaring at Stan as if daring him to argue again. “I-It wasn’t your fault. C-Can we just go? I’m n-not missing M-Muh-Mike’s game because of Henry.” Stan hesitated, but nodded, knowing there was no point in trying to change his mind. He felt a familiar rush of affection towards Bill.

“Yeah, we can go when your nose stops bleeding.” Stan murmured.

 

~*~

 

Richie waited under the bleachers, curly hair pulled back in a grey beanie. It was a bit of a bad hair day for him, but he didn’t want Eddie to see that (not that he would ever admit it) and had put a beanie over it as he was waiting. “Eddie?” He called out into the darkness, though for the most part, his voice was lost underneath the noise of the crowd above him. Looking around though, he couldn’t see anyone but himself, and he was starting to feel uneasy.

“Eds?” He called again, but was only met with silence once more. “I’m, uh… I’m here.” He drummed his fingers against his leg, waiting. A couple minutes later, nothing had happened, and Richie was starting to think that Eddie had ditched him, or something else was going on here. 

“Eddie?” He called, louder, and this time his voice was louder than that of the crowd above him. There was still no response, though, and Richie scowled. Eddie had probably backed out at the last minute or something. He started to walk away, when hands covered his eyes before he could walk out into the view of everyone else. 

“Hey-!” He started, shoving whoever it was off and spinning to face them, but it was just Eddie, giving a nervous grin.

“You’re awfully jumpy,” Eddie commented, and Richie rolled his eyes, gaze expectant. 

“Are we gonna talk, or what?” For once, Richie was the one being serious out of the two, and Eddie didn’t like it. 

“Yeah. I wanted to say I’m sorry again for the video. I should have stopped her, and I really don’t know what came over me. It was this really ugly feeling. I didn’t like it at all. And I just.. I don’t know how to make it better. I can’t make it better. But Richie, I’m really, really sorry. And I’m also really sorry about Ash. But mostly… mostly I’m sorry for everything.” Eddie didn’t know how far into the speech Richie would let him get without interrupting, so he just kept going. “I’m sorry for 8th grade, I’m sorry for abandoning you, I’m sorry for pretending like you didn’t exist. I’m sorry if I made you feel like shit, and I regret all of it. I wish I could just go back, I wish that I didn’t have to live with what I did, and I wish you didn’t have to live with it, either. I wish that I had been there for you, I wish that all of us had been there for you. I wish that you and Beverly were still part of our group, because we’re not the Losers without our Trashmouth and without Bev. I wish that I could take it all back and most of all I wish that you didn’t hate me, but you do, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Eddie looked up at Richie then, but Richie was looking at the ground as if considering something. He gave a quiet sigh. “I wish all of that too, Eddie, except for one thing. And that’s the last one. I don’t hate you, Eds.” For once, Eddie didn’t make an annoyed expression at the nickname. In fact, Eddie was so happy that Richie called him that, he could have cried. It had been so damn long, and truthfully, Eddie had missed it. All of the little nicknames that Richie would call him. Eddie Spaghetti, Edward Spaghedward, Eds, all of them. Eddie just stared at Richie. 

“You don’t hate me?”

Richie laughed-  _ he actually fucking laughed-  _ and shook his head. “Honestly? I could never hate you. Though sometimes I wish I could. It would’ve made things a lot easier two years ago.” Richie stared at the ground for another moment before looking up, gaze meeting Eddie’s. “Look, I… I missed you. A lot. As you probably already know.” Richie gave another quiet laugh, but this time it was out of nerves. “And I forgive you for what you’ve done. This doesn’t mean we’re all buddy-buddy again, don’t get me wrong, but…” Richie gave a tentative smile. “I definitely wouldn’t mind having you back in my life. We can start over, yeah?” 

Eddie gave an enthusiastic nod, and took a step forward, before hesitating and taking one back again as if he thought better of it. But that didn’t matter, because Richie stepped forward and hugged Eddie tight like he knew exactly what Eddie had been thinking. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that,” Richie mumbled into Eddie’s hair, shutting his eyes and breathing him in as if to make sure this was real, and that this wasn’t a dream. 

“Me too.” Eddie smiled, hugging him back tightly. 

 

~*~

 

“I’m gonna go get some popcorn. Want anything?” Stan asked, getting up from the bleachers. Bill’s nose had stopped bleeding, and now he seemed fine, enjoying the game. He had refused to let Henry and Patrick put him down, and was now smiling and laughing with Ben as they made jokes. 

“Y-yeah, any type of c-candy is fine.” Bill smiled up at Stan, and saw Stan give a nod before he was walking away towards the concession stand. As soon as Stan disappeared though, Audra sat down next to Bill as if sensing her opening. He could smell her sickly sweet perfume, and turned away from her, annoyance crossing over his features.

“Bill, please,” Audra pleaded. “I’m sorry, okay? It was a long time ago, and we were on a break. I would never do that now. I was an idiot and I’m sorry.”

Bill just glanced over at her, looking unimpressed.

“I’m so sorry, Bill,” she murmured, looking on the verge of tears. Bill bit his lip, not able to help it as he started to feel guilty. If they had been on a break, it wasn’t really Audra’s fault, was it?  He shook his head as if he could clear his thoughts by doing so, and turned back away from her. 

“I promise, Bill. We don’t have to get back together, and I won’t push for it, I promise. But… can we at least be friends again?” She begged. Bill shut his eyes, and after a minute, he relented. 

“Fine. B-b-but  _ just _ f-friends, Audra. I’m serious.” Bill said, frowning, and Audra’s tears seemed to vanish immediately. 

“Okay. Just friends. I promise.” Audra hugged Bill tightly, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Stan coming back up the steps of the bleachers, confused gaze on them. “Talk to you later.” She smiled, and kissed Bill’s cheek, pretending it was out of habit as she slipped away. She let out a satisfied sigh when she was far enough away that they couldn’t hear her, watching Stan talking to Bill, looking slightly crestfallen.


	8. The Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill gets a phone call, and learns something about the death of Ash, as well as his mom. Richie goes to Ash's wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna add in Bill's call at the end of the last one, but it was almost 1,000 words just for that scene which was a little much and I decided to wait, so here it is.

After the game, Bill sat at home alone, texting Eddie on his phone and scrolling through Instagram. It was quiet, everybody else out of the house for the moment. Georgie was with his dad at the bowling alley, and his mom was at work, so Bill had the whole house to himself. He liked it that way a lot of times, liked being able to do whatever he wanted. Not that that usually consisted of much. It usually just meant that Bill would sit around on the couch playing on his phone and listening to music at whatever volume he wanted.

The house alarm going off ripped his peaceful thoughts away from him, and he shot up and off the couch. He dropped his phone right where he was previously sitting and walked into the room where the alarm was coming from. Fear rippled through him when he saw the back door was unlocked and wide open, and he shut it quickly, locking it. He walked over to the alarm code was, and typed in the necessary password so that the alarm would shut off. The house was silent again, but this time instead of peaceful, it was creepy. Bill swallowed hard, jumping as the house phone on the counter went off.

“H-hello?” Bill asked, pressing his back against the wall so that no one could sneak up on him.

 _“Hi!”_ Said a voice, and it sounded way too cheerful. Maybe it was just him though, because of what had just happened. _“This is your home security. We got an alarm notice at your house. Can you give me your name and passcode?”_

“M-muh-my name i-is B-Bill Denbrough, a-and the c-c-codeword i-is p-puh-paperb-b-boat.” Bill said shakily, stutter starting to get worse as he talked because of his fear. “I-I just f-f-found my b-b-back door op-pen.”

 _“Take a deep breath, Bill. We have a patrol nearby, and he can be there in a couple of minutes.”_ The guy on the other side of the phone said, and Bill relaxed slightly. The guy’s voice was soothing.

“Sh-should I m-muh-maybe go w-wuh-wait outs-side?” Bill asked nervously.

 _“You’re safer inside. If someone tried to break in, he probably took off when the alarm sounded.”_   The guy reassured him.

“W-would you s-st-stay on the line w-with me u-until he gets h-here?” Bill dug through the storage closet beside him, and pulled out a bat. He shut the door quickly and looked around the house. All of the shadows seemed to clump together to form shapes, and Bill’s heart raced.

_“Sure, I can do that.”_

“S-Sorry if I s-suh-sound paran-noid, i-it’s just m-muh-my family’s b-been harassed before.” Bill started checking around the house warily, baseball bat at the ready.

_“No worries. The whole town’s on edge with all of the ‘Brandon James’ talk.”_

“U-um, how f-far away is h-he?” Bill asked nervously, feeling uncomfortable at the mention of Brandon James.

_“Dispatch says three minutes, tops. So what’re you doing home tonight? Watching some TV? Anything good on?”_

“I-Is this your w-wuh-way of trying t-to distract m-me? B-because it’s n-not working.” Bill said, tension in his voice. He kept close to the walls so no one could sneak up on him as he checked the living room out. He couldn’t see anyone though.

The voice on the other end of the phone laughed. _“You see right through me. Come on, give me a break. What do you like to watch?”_

“Uh, I-I don’t know. St-Stranger Things. Game of Th-Thrones.” Bill said, not really thinking about it as he responded.

_“How to Get Away with Murder?”_

“U-uh yeah, th-that’s a pretty good one I-I guess,” Bill muttered distractedly.

 _“I like a strong lead. You sound pretty tough yourself,”_ the guy observed, and Bill didn’t respond, too busy looking around the house. _“If that guy’s still in your house, maybe he should be afraid.”_

“D-don’t even j-joke about that.” Bill said sharply, and the guy gave a small laugh.

 _“Sorry. So what else do you like? Comedy?”_ The guy gave a small pause. _“Horror?”_

“D-definitely not h-horror. Real life i-is scary e-enough these d-days. I barely sleep a-anymore.”

_“You do look tired.”_

“Wh-what?” Bill said, fear lacing his voice again. Across the room, something moved, catching his eye.

 _“I said you sound tired.”_ The window was open, the curtains billowing in the wind, and Bill knew something was up.

“Wh-what’s taking him so long?” He asked slowly as he walked over to the window and shut it, reaching to the top to lock it, too.

The voice on the other end just laughed. _“What you should really be asking is… did you just lock me out… or in?”_

Bill spun around, gripping his bat tight. “If y-you are i-in this house, I sw-swear to god.”

_“What? You gonna try a little batting practice on me?”_

“You’re damn right I will.” Bill said with a growl, not even noticing that he didn’t stutter once.

_“You gotta find me first. And I could be anywhere.”_

“I-I’ve got your number. I-I’m calling th-the police.”

 _“By all means.”_ The voice on the other end just sounded amused. _“They’ll reach a nice, confused man named Steve who works at Derry Security, and the cops will never get here in time. So I suggest you_ talk to me _."_ The last words came out a snarl, and Bill felt goosebumps race along his arms.

“Wh-what do you w-want from me?”

 _“To show you the truth. Who you really are. And trust me, it’s gonna_ hurt.”

“Y-you don’t kn-know me.”

 _“But I do. And that’s the real horror show. I know that everyone you trust is lying to you. Playing you._ ”

“Wh-what are you t-tuh-talking about?” Bill snapped angrily.

_“Your so-called 'best friends'. Your fraud of a family. Your whore of a mother. It all started with her, Bill. But it’s gonna end with all of you. See you soon."_

 

**~*~**

 

**Halloween, 1994**

Dara Alden ran as fast as she could away from the school, breathing hard with tears falling down her face. She was so, so scared, and she could see Brandon anywhere, no matter how hard she looked. She ran across a clearing, hating how visible she was in the moonlight. For once, it wasn’t raining in Derry, which meant that Brandon would have full view of her. Terrified, she looked behind her once more, and as soon as she did she let out a scream.

But when her head whipped around to see who it was, it was just Brett Keener, and she let out a thankful sob.

“Shh,” Brett quieted her. “I think he’s close.”

“What happened?” Dara shook hard, whole body trembling, and Brett scowled.

“The freak finally lost it.”

“What did you do to him?” Dara asked, completely paralyzed with fear. Brett turned away from her, looking into the woods that lay just a couple yards away.

“What he deserved.” He growled, scanning the forest. There was no sign of Brandon, so Brett turned back to Dara. There was the sound of footsteps, and Brett almost looked behind him again until he heard the sounds that Dara was making. It sounded like water was flowing really fast, and she was choking- and that’s when he realized that it wasn’t water running. It was blood.

Dara fell as blood gushed from her throat, which had been sliced open as he had looked away. Now, he felt true fear starting to course through him, stumbling away from her. “Oh god.”

He ran towards the forest, picking up the biggest stick that he could find. He whirled around, trying to see where Brandon was and keeping the stick out in front of him like a sword. “You stay away from me, you psycho!”

Brett started to run, keeping the stick in his hands, but in his haste he didn’t see the foot that had been stuck out from behind a tree. He fell to the ground hard, the skin on his hands breaking and rocks and pebbles cut at them. Looking up, he could see Brandon with that stupid mask on, and he made a wild scramble for the branch. He attempted to stab Brandon with it, hoping against hope that he would be able to knock Brandon out or something. At the same time, he scrambled backwards, still on the ground but trying to get away from him as quickly as possible.

Brandon’s foot came down on his own, hard, keeping Brett trapped firmly in place. He made another stab at Brandon with the stick, but Brandon caught it this time, snatching the stick out of his hands.

“Please, no! Don’t, ple-” he was cut off as Brandon drove the stick through Brett’s eye.

 

~*~

**Present Day**

Richie slid the picture of Brett Keener across the desk, looking absolutely unfazed at the stick through Brett’s head or the blood that splattered across the body. “Halloween Day, 1994 was a bitch for Dara Alden and Brett Keener, victims one and two,” he said, looking over at Nancy, who was writing down what he had to say with interest. Bev sat beside him too, though she was texting Ben and, for now at least, was leaving all of the Brandon James talk to him. “Of course, no one knows what their last words were. Except maybe Brandon James.”

Nancy looked at him with interest. “And what about you, Richie Tozier? Do you think that Brandon James just snapped that night?”

Beverly interrupted them, finally looking up from her phone. “Nobody just snaps. I mean, a bomb doesn’t become a bomb when the wick is lit, you know?”

“Okay. So if Victor Criss is really the one behind the mask in that gif, is this just a homage?” Nancy asked, turning to face Beverly. Bev took a sip of her coffee, sitting up a little straighter.

“In my opinion, no one puts on a mask and commits a murder like _that_ just once. The real question is; who’s next?”

 

~*~

 

“So we are officially dealing with another murder.” Sheriff Hudson said tiredly, sitting down. Sharon Denbrough nodded quietly.

“I was up all night finishing the autopsy. The ligature marks, dislocated vertebrae, crushed larynx…” Sharon started, and Bill opened the door to the autopsy room without being noticed. He sometimes came and visited his mom during work, but when he realized she was talking to the Sheriff, he didn’t say a word. Neither of the adults noticed him.

“...you don’t see this kind of trauma hanging yourself from an eight foot high ceiling fan.” Sharon finished.

Sheriff Hudson turned to her. “So someone staged the body to look like a suicide. Why?”

“Wish I knew.” She shrugged, gaze exhausted from having stayed up all night.

“Rachel’s wake is today.” Sheriff Hudson said gently. “Let’s give her family a day to mourn before we tell them and open up an official murder investigation.”

Sharon sighed, and Bill wondered if she was thinking of him and Georgie as she said, “A mother’s worst nightmare.”

“Any more packages arrive at your door?” Sheriff Hudson said to change the subject, and Bill frowned, confused now. Packages? They hadn’t gotten any recent packages, besides the one that had said **DAISY** on it.

“Not since the heart.” She said, and Bill had to inch forward slightly to hear her. He had hidden behind a wall just in case, so that neither adult would spot him as he moved around the room. “Which I can’t stop thinking about.” She added, and Bill noticed the bags under her eyes. He thought about what had happened yesterday, the phone call. _Your fraud of a family. Your whore of a mother._

“Have you told Bill yet? Maybe he should be extra careful.” Sheriff Hudson said, watching Sharon work.

Sharon shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet. Maybe I should. I’m trying to protect him, though. He’s dealing with enough, and anyway, it’ll bring up questions about my past that I just can’t answer.”

Bill couldn’t take just listening anymore, and he ducked out of the room, slipping out unnoticed, just as he had come in. He breathed hard, trying to process everything. His phone chimed, grabbing his attention for a brief second, but when he saw that it was from an Unknown Number, he exhaled shakily before his breathing stopped all together.

**_Unknown Number: Morning, Billy boy. You and Mom have a heart to heart yet?_ **

 

~*~

 

Patrick dug up the familiar hole in the middle of the forest, alone. This was where he and Henry had stashed it, and he stopped digging when he heard the familiar _clang_ of the blue metal box as he hit it with the shovel. He picked it up, brushing dirt off the top and frowning when he felt that it was way lighter than normal. He opened up the box, and when he saw it was empty, he swore, throwing it hard. “Son of a bitch!” He shouted angrily, and after a minute, he shovelled all of the dirt back into the hole, and went off to go talk to Henry.

 

~*~

 

Richie stared at everybody else here uncomfortably. He was the only one out of place here, the only one that wasn’t actually related to Ash. He shifted quietly, not having said a word since he had left the house that day to go to Ash’s wake. Now though, he was regretting it, wishing that he had chosen to grieve over Ash privately instead of coming over here to do it. Sighing, he made his way across the room and up the stairs of Ash’s house, people staring at him as he passed. He expected Ash’s room to be empty when he got up there, and he was right, it was. He walked around, occasionally picking up little trinkets and smiling softly to himself, a small, sad sort of smile.

He looked up at the ceiling fan quietly, where Ash had hung himself. Now the rope and body was gone, though Richie could see proof that the police were here. Everything looked searched through, probably because it had been, searching for any reason why Ash had done this. In the corner of his mind, a piece of him seemed to still be in denial. _Ash wouldn’t do that to himself. He was getting better, you were helping him get better._ But it was a tiny part of him, because the truth was, Ash _had_ done it. There was no way around it. Ash was dead, because obviously Richie helping him through it hadn’t been enough. Vaguely, he wondered if the video had been what pushed him over.

Truthfully, he was still hurt that Eddie had done that, just let Greta take and post that video. He knew that Eddie hadn’t wanted anything to do with him two years ago, but he didn’t think that Eddie had hated him that much. He also wondered if Eddie was still doing it because he felt guilty. If he thought that maybe now that he was friends again with Richie, Richie would forget all about Ash.

But a part of him, a large part of him, knew that Eddie wasn’t like that. He was too sweet, too caring, too nice. In fact, if it hadn’t happened, Richie would have never believed that Eddie would just abandon one of his best friends like that. They had been getting closer, and Richie exhaled softly as he thought about it. That had been the year that he had planned to talk to Eddie about it, once and for all. He had been tired of the flirting between them that Eddie refused to admit was anything more than just platonic and a joke. He was tired of catching Eddie looking at him when Eddie thought he wasn’t looking and not doing a damn thing about it. He was tired of pretending that he didn’t feel more for Eddie than friendship.

But those plans had all gone down the drain (the feelings, unfortunately for both of them, did not) that day that Eddie had decided to walk past him in the cafeteria, and the others had simply followed Eddie instead of telling him to figure shit out with Richie before one of them got really hurt.

Guiltily, Richie brushed his thoughts of Eddie away. He felt bad thinking about how he had felt (and if he was being honest with himself, still felt) about Eddie in the same room where his (boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Like Bev, he didn’t really know either, they hadn’t made it official) had killed himself. He sat down on the edge of the bed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The sound of footsteps thumping rapidly down the hall startled Richie, and he opened his brown eyes just as Bill came skidding into the room.

“Bill? What’re you doing here?” The brief thought of making a joke slid in and out of Richie’s mind, but he brushed it away, not having the energy to make one right now. “Did you- did you run all the way here?” Bill was panting heavily, and his cheeks were flushed. His hair was in front of his face, and he was all sweaty.

“Y-yeah, b-but that’s not the p-puh-point. Ash d-d-didn’t kill hims-suh-self. My muh-mom found something in th-the autopsy, a-and tomorrow th-the Sheriff’s opening a m-m-muh-murder investigation.” Bill managed to get out through heaving breaths. Richie stared at him, mouth parted slightly, and then he sucked in a sharp breath like it was his last chance to ever do so.

“I knew it. I knew Ash wouldn’t kill himself. But…” he faltered for a brief second, looking confused and pained. “Who would want to kill him?”

“I-I don’t kn-know,” Bill said, hand reaching up to scratch at his neck absentmindedly. “I’m r-ruh-really sorry, R-Richie.” He murmured, looking down. Then he said, “I-I gotta go, I-I just th-thought y-you should here it fr-from me.”

“Seriously?” Richie said, stopping Bill before he could leave. Bill turned to look back at him in confusion, and Richie frowned. “Bill, you just did your neck thing. Whenever you lie or know something you’re not saying, you scratch at your neck.” Bill didn’t respond, looking at the ground.

“Bill, what’s going on?”


	9. Dance with Me?

Patrick’s black truck thumped along the gravel road and pulled to a stop in front of Henry’s house, music blaring so loudly that you could hear the words clearly from the outside. Or at least, you’d be able to if the sound of a tractor nearby wasn’t drowning them out.

Henry lived on a farm with his (insane) father, and honestly, Patrick hated it out here. It smelled and weeds grew all over the place, not to mention that the house was basically a hellhole. He had been inside only once, as a kid. Everything had been cluttered, and beer bottles were everywhere. Henry’s father had been passed out on the couch, a beer bottle on the floor that had clearly been in his hand before he had fallen asleep. Patrick could remember that the TV had been set onto a weird kids TV show (they had been talking about the sewers or something? If he thought hard enough, Patrick could remember the girl’s voice saying “The sewers are a fun place to play!” but he hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time). Long story short, Patrick never wanted to go into that house again. He got the vague feeling Henry didn’t want to either, but he didn’t have the choice.

The tractor came to a slow stop, and Patrick shut off his car, getting out and jogging over to Henry. He looked borderline dangerous, way up high on the tractor that could easily run Patrick over, so Patrick stayed a few feet back as he talked to Henry, squinting against the sun.

“Henry, we’ve got a problem. The money’s gone, I think Victor took it.” Patrick said nervously, unsure of how Henry was going to react, but Henry just shook his head.

“No he didn’t. I took it.”

“What? Took it where?” Patrick said as Henry turned the tractor off and got out of it, standing in front of Patrick.

“You should be thank me that I got to the cash before Victor could.”

“That wasn’t your decision,” Patrick said, ignoring the look that Henry shot him, but backing down slightly. “We’re partners.”

“Well, you promised to shut down our little operation, _partner._ And I know you haven’t.” Henry growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Patrick forced himself not to shrink back, instead straightening his back and rolling his shoulders so that Henry wasn't any taller than him.

“I did.” Patrick lied, and when Henry just stared at him, Patrick’s frown deepened. “Okay, I considered your request. But you’re not seeing the upside of keeping this thing going.”

“That’s because I don’t have a rich father like you do,” Henry snapped at him, taking a step forward. Patrick didn’t move, though he wanted to back up. “If they trace this back to us, I’m toast.”

“Come on, dude, where’s the cash?” Patrick called angrily as Henry climbed back up on the tractor.

“Shut it all down, and maybe you’ll find out.” Henry said, and the tractor roared to life.

~*~

 

“A-At first I thought i-it was some loser w-wuh-with a voice changer app o-on his ph-ph-phone, but he won’t l-luh-leave me alone.” Bill said, leaning against the counter as he talked to Richie. They were at the cafe, since Bill had said that he needed to work and Richie hadn’t wanted to wait until after his shift was over. Their compromise was to both go there, and Bill would explain to Richie whenever he wasn’t busy with a customer.

“So you think that some deranged stalker killed Ash to hurt you?”

“I-I know that I sound p-puh-paranoid. I d-don’t know, m-maybe I am. B-but this g-guy acted like he knew m-muh-me. Like he kn-knew all of u-us. He said he was g-guh-going to “show us the truth”.”

“Have you told your mom?” Richie asked, tilting his head. Bill shared mostly everything with his mom, and Richie could understand that. He would too, if his parents weren’t-

“N-not yet.” Bill responded, and Richie snapped out of his thoughts. “I was going t-to, b-but she’s the one who t-tuh-told me not t-to trust.”

Richie paused, and then said tentatively, “What if you wrote him back?”

“Wh-what?” Bill asked, staring at him like he was crazy.

“If this psycho did kill Ash, I wanna know the reason why.” Richie said firmly. “He DM’d you, right?” When Bill nodded, Richie continued. “He opened a line. Let’s Direct Message his ass back.” After a moment of hesitation, Bill nodded and took out his phone. He typed a text onto his phone but handed it to Richie to see what he thought before he sent it. Richie gave a nod of approval, and Bill pressed send, stomach twisting with nerves.

_Bill: I know you killed Ash. Tell me why._

“And now we wait.” Richie murmured, leaning back.

 

~*~

 

“Hey, Bill can I talk to you?” Audra asked the next day as Bill was coming out of his first class of the day. He snapped out of his thoughts about the mysterious person that still hadn’t responded since last night with Richie.

“U-Uh yeah, sure.” Bill said, walking to his locker and glancing over at her as he spun in the combination. “Wh-what’s up?” He was still kind of tense, not having completely forgiven her yet for cheating on him, and Bill could tell Audra sensed it. Not that he cared much.

“I found this at my house yesterday. Georgie must have left it when you guys came over last.” Audra said, and handed Bill a paper boat with the words **_S.S. Georgie_ ** on the side. Bill chuckled quietly, taking the paper boat and examining it in his hands. It was probably the longest that one of Georgie’s paper boats had survived, all of the other ones getting lost, swept into the sewers drains, or destroyed somehow. Half of the time, Bill wondered if Georgie secretly liked it when they got lost, because that meant that he got to ask Bill to make him another one.

“Th-thanks, Audra. G-Guh-Georgie will luh-love it.” Bill smiled, putting it carefully in his locker so that he would remember to take it home with him at the end of the day.

“No problem.” Audra smiled sweetly at him, and Bill smiled back, grabbing his books and shutting his locker door. “We have the same class next. Walk with me?” Bill hesitated, but for only a second, and then gave a small nod.

“S-Sure.” He agreed, and Bill and Audra walked down the hall together, talking to each other. Neither of them noticed Stan watching them go with a wistful and disappointed look, before turning around walking in the other direction.

 

~*~

 

“See, Aristotle asked, “Why are we here? What is the meaning of life, in the face of death?” You see, Aristotle understood that volatile relationships, well, they can lead to tragedy.” Mr. Branson said, leaning against his desk as he talked to his students. “You see, we’re all looking for something in life. Desire, that’s at the heart of drama. Desire for love, power, money. I’m talking about… Jason and Madea. I’m talking about Antony and Cleopatra. I’m talking about…” he paused for a minute and looked over his students. “I’m talking about Bill and Stan.”

Stan choked, head shooting up. “Excuse me?”

“I’m splitting you all into pairs and groups of three,” Mr. Branson continued as if he hadn’t heard Stan, though Bill shot Stan a concerned look, wondering why there had been so much alarm in Stan’s voice. “You and your partner will get together and choose a dramatic scene to perform in class. Now, let’s not just limit ourselves, we can choose contemporary scenes from movies, Richie and… Eddie,” Mr. Branson said, naming another pair. Richie looked over at Eddie and opened his mouth, grinning, but Eddie cut him off before he could say anything.

“If you suggest the pool scene from _Wild Things,_ I will end you.”

“What about Fifty Shades of Grey?” Richie asked, winking, and Eddie scowled at him.

“In your dreams, mouth breather.”

Richie held his hands up as if in surrender, the look on his face never faltering. Across the room, Beverly smiled to herself, watching the two of them.

“Or, if that’s too much for your attention span, pick a TV show, Ben and Mike,” Ben glanced over at Bev apologetically, and then over at Mike, looking like he already had an idea for what scene they could do. Mike looked amused, also sending a Bev an apologetic look too. He just shrugged back at them. “I’ll even let you pick popular fiction, Beverly and… Patrick.” All of the Losers tensed at the same time, the smiles on their faces disappearing. Patrick didn’t look even a little happy, either, and Bev swallowed hard.

“Okay, I’ll pair the rest of you up at the library. Let’s get going on these selections,” Mr. Branson said, and the whole class filed outside, talking amongst themselves as they walked to the library. Beverly darted ahead, and Richie watched as she ran up to Mr. Branson, talking to him so quietly that nobody else could hear them. After a minute, Mr. Branson hesitated, but nodded, and Bev ran over to Ben and Mike.

“Mr. Branson said I could join your group, since, you know…” she said, glancing over at Henry.

Mike nodded. “Cool. I’ll film the video, then, and do all of the special effects while you to act in it. Sound good?” Both Bev and Ben nodded, and Mike smiled, and continued to walk.

 

~*~

 

“‘You have no idea how utterly unprecedented you are,’” Stan said, and Bill watched him from across the table, trying to suppress a smile. They both sat at one of the back tables in the library, across from each other with dozens of books spread between them. Bill couldn’t help but admire how the lighting hit Stan just right here, how it made his eyes practically glow and highlighted his best features.

“‘You c-can’t say th-things like that,’” Bill responded, and it was Stan’s turn to try and suppress a smile. He failed, letting out a soft laugh that made Bill’s heart soar slightly. He ignored it.

“You’re right, I really can’t.” Stan said, laughing, and the seriousness of the scene that they had been trying to replicate broke as Bill laughed, too.

“Okay, s-suh-so Fault in Our Stars is also a n-no.” Bill scratched that out in his notebook.

“Yeah, cancer on top of all of the murders might be a bit much,” Stan said, sounding amused, and Bill nodded in agreement, a huge smile on his face. Bill’s phone went off with a ding, and he pulled it out of his pocket. As soon as he did, his smile faltered slightly, and he sighed.

“Problem?” Stan asked, and Bill shook his head.

“N-no, it’s my mom,  it’s j-juh-just, you know… e-every night’s b-been a late night since Gr-Greta. I haven’t e-even talked to her i-in person s-suh-since-” Bill stopped himself, and shrugged quietly, but Stan could see that something was freaking Bill out.

“Okay. Anything else?” Stan asked quietly, and Bill glanced up at him. He thought about telling Stan about what had happened the other night, about the person that had called him when he’d been home alone, and how he really didn’t want to be in that house alone at night. His father was always off doing something, and most nights Georgie spent at friend’s houses. He also thought about telling Stan what he had figured out- about his mom, and Daisy. But Stan didn’t need more to worry about. So he shook his head. Stan didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t push the subject any more.

 

~*~

 

“You wanna do _The Exorcist?”_ Eddie said, staring at Richie like he was insane. Richie nodded excitedly.

“It’s classic! “The power of Christ compels you!” Loads of drama.”

“Dramatic, maybe, but not very romantic.” Eddie said almost absentmindedly, and then his face flushed bright red as if he hadn’t quite meant to say that.

“Do you think our scene should be romantic?” Richie asked, watching him curiously. Eddie just gave a shrug, putting his books into his locker. They were in the crowded hallway, and Richie was leaning on a locker beside Eddie’s, talking to the smaller boy over the noise of students.

“I don’t really care either way, Richie, just not the Exorcist.” Eddie said, trying to brush off the topic.

“I know what we can do instead-”

“I swear to god, Richie, if you say my mom I will strangle you.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, and Eddie smiled slightly to himself. He had definitely missed this, as much as he pretended to be annoyed. “We can figure it out later, yeah? My parents are out of town,” at this, Eddie tried to ignore the familiar look in Richie’s gaze, a sign that this happened a lot, “and we have the house to ourselves if you wanna come over and help me pick out one.”

“Like I’d leave you alone to do it yourself,” Eddie snorted. “I’ll walk home with you after school.” At this, Richie nodded, and they headed their separate ways to go to class.

~*~

 

That night, Bill stayed up until his mother got home, sitting on the couch and listening to his music until he heard the familiar sound of the garage door opening. He got up, and after a moment, his mother walked through the garage door, smiling tiredly at him. “Hi, honey,” she said, sitting down her bag and making herself a glass of water.

“You’re D-Duh-Daisy, aren’t you?” Bill said, and Sharon Denbrough dropped the glass. It shattered at her feet, and she swore softly under her breath.

“It… That was a long time ago.” She said quietly. “I’ve been trying to put it behind me.” She grabbed the broom, starting to sweep up the piece of shattered glass.

“B-but it isn’t, i-is it? Mom, someone sent y-you a h-h-he-heart in a b-box.” Bill said, staring at her. She refused to look up at him, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I’m dealing with it,” she said in a way that said she was done with the conversation, but Bill kept going anyway.

“A-Are you? B-b-because I’m p-pretty sure whoever is h-harassing y-you is the same c-creep who’s calling m-muh-me.”

“He’s calling you? Why didn’t you tell me?” She demanded, pausing in her actions to look at him. He stared at her in disbelief.

“You r-really wanna start comparing s-suh-secrets right n-now?” Bill crossed his arms over his chest, and Sharon exhaled slightly.

“What does he say?”

“Th-that my my life is a l-lie. That you’re a l-liar. _Awful_ th-things.”

“I’m sorry. But believe it or not, this is exactly what I was trying to protect you from, okay? He-”

“R-really, Mom? B-because it sounds m-ore like you wanna p-protect yourself,” Bill snapped. “I heard you t-tuh-talking to the Sheriff th-this morning. Unless you w-wanna start talking a-ah-about those mysterious q-questions you can’t answer.” She didn’t respond, staring at him and quiet.

“Exactly.” He said quietly, and walked away.

~*~

 

Eddie laughed, not able to see anything at all. Darkness surrounded him, the fabric of a blindfold around his eyes. Richie’s hands were on his back, leading the way. “Was all of this mystery really necessary?” Eddie asked, hands out in front of him so he didn’t smash into anything. He didn’t exactly trust Richie with this, not after he had run him into the corner of a wall. Twice.

“It’ll be cool,” Richie promised, and Eddie felt his grip tighten a little bit reassuringly.

“As long as my head doesn’t end up in your freezer.” Eddie joked, and Richie let out a laugh.

“You know, I never understood the whole head-in-the-freezer thing. Ask any zombie, heads are so much better at room temperature.” They both laughed, and Richie stopped walking, which meant that Eddie stopped, too. “Okay, we’re here, but keep that on. I’ll be right back.” With that, Richie’s hands were gone, and Eddie could hear his footsteps around the room. They had both been at Richie’s house, and though it had gotten dark outside, Eddie still hadn’t gone home yet. They had finally picked out a scene, and now Richie had insisted on showing him something. What the was still remained unknown to Eddie. He did know that they were no longer at Richie’s, though, because they had gotten into a car and driven somewhere.

After a minute, there was a thud, and then Richie said, “Okay, you can take off the blindfold now.” Eddie did so, slipping off the blindfold, and let it drop to the floor.

“Woah! Is this where you work?” Eddie asked, looking around at everything. There were three TV’s set up in one corner, along with a couch right across from them, and YouTube videos of people playing different games played on them, a different video for each TV. On the other side of the room sat old music stuff, records and turntables, CD’s, VMS tapes, and different posters of bands that Richie had never heard of. The brown eyed boy nodded with a proud grin.

“Sure is, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie shot him a sour look, but his eyes were bright as he looked around at everything. “This place is so cool.”

Richie gave a slightly sheepish smile this time, looking proud even though all he did was work there (and, if he was having a rough time at home, occasionally slept here). “When we could decide on a movie earlier, I remembered that you’ve never even seen some of the best drama out there. It’s in video games.” At this, Eddie looked over at him fondly. _Nerd._ “Like the opening scene of _The Last of Us?_ Oh my god, heartbreaking.”

Eddie sat down on the couch, smiling. “This is great, Richie. I’ve never been to a store like this before.”

Richie sat down next to him, fingers tapping against his leg. Eddie had the brief urge to reach out and stop them from tapping, but he didn’t, just glancing over at Richie. For once, Richie seemed at a loss for words. “Thanks,” he mumbled, watching Eddie quietly. “I like this place a lot. Me and Bev usually come here just for something to do, even if we’re not actually working.” He said, and Eddie nodded, understanding. There really wasn’t much to do in Derry. “Anyway, I just thought you might like it. I know you think- or, um, used to think, I don’t know if you still do,” Richie faltered slightly for a minute, and then kept going, “that records were really cool, so, yeah. I just thought…” Richie said awkwardly, unsure how to finish the sentence. Eddie gave another small laugh.

“I still do like records. They’re really cool, I just wish that I had a turntable so that I could actually listen to them.” Eddie shrugged. Richie popped to his feet immediately, giving Eddie a huge grin.

“Then why don’t we listen to one now? No one else is here, and no one really cares as long as nothing gets broken. Here, pick out one you wanna listen to and I’ll put it on.”

Eddie hesitated. “Are you sure it’s okay to do this?”

“Positive. C’mon, Eds, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“We go to jail for breaking and entering? We break something and have to pay for it? We somehow get hurt? We-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just pick one out. Please?” Richie said, giving him puppy dog eyes, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But if we get in trouble, I’m blaming you.” Then he walked over to the boxes of records, and after a moment he picked out _Oh Wonder_ ’s album, handing it to Richie. Richie looked at it curiously, having never heard of them before, and put it on. He adjusted some stuff on the turntable and then put the needle on, and there was a crackling sound at first, and then _Lose It_ started to play. Even though he didn’t know the words or the lyrics, Richie bobbed his head along to the music. Eddie watched in amusement as he started to dance, nearly tripping over his own feet more than a few times.

“Dance with me!” Richie said, grinning, and Eddie just raised an eyebrow.

“You call that dancing?”

“Please?” Richie said, offering his hand. Grudgingly, Eddie took it, and Richie spun him before letting him go and continuing to dance. Eddie joined him, watching Richie as he spun and jumped and basically made the worst attempting at dancing Eddie had ever seen, and couldn't help thinking how beautiful Richie really did look.

Oh, he was  _so_ screwed.


	10. Oops

 

Bill looked up from doing his homework in his room as his phone went off, vibrating repeatedly as the call screen glowed. **_Unknown Number_ ** **,** it said, and Bill started at it as it vibrated. After a minute, he pressed the answer button and held it up to his ear. “H-hello?”

 _“Hello, Bill.”_ The voice was gruff and scratchy, and Bill recognized it immediately as the person who had called him two days ago when he was home alone. _“I got your text. I’ll answer your questions when_ I’m _ready. So… did mommy give you the answers you were looking for?”_

“I-I’m calling the p-police.”

 _“Say anything and I will gut her,”_ the person on the other end snarled, and Bill couldn’t help but flinch.

“Wh-what the _hell_ d-d-do you _want_ from m-me?”

_“Isn’t it obvious, Billy? I want your trust.”_

“My _trust?_ Why the hell would I trust you?”

_“Because I’m the only one who’s telling you the truth.”_

_“_ You’re sick. I’m done playing your games, and I’m done with _you.”_ Bill snapped, and hung up abruptly, throwing the phone onto his bed. He stared at his homework, pencil hovering over the paper, but his mind couldn’t focus. He heard his phone chime again, and hesitated, before gritting his teeth and grabbing his phone, clicking on the message.

_Unknown: Then I’ll find someone else to play with._

 

_~*~_

 

Richie didn’t know how it had happened. One minute, they were dancing, and the next, Eddie was sound asleep, tucked into Richie’s chest on the couch. His hair was messy and his forehead glistened slightly with sweat from moving so much, but he looked peaceful and content. His hands gripped at Richie’s shirt slightly in his sleep, loose, but if Richie moved or tried to pull away they would tighten automatically. Not that Richie would do that anyway.

Richie himself was half asleep, arms around Eddie on the couch and dozing off occasionally. A problem of his was that he could never stay asleep, though, and the slightest noise would wake him right back up again, like the wind howling or Eddie’s phone vibrating or his phone chiming. When he woke up, he would comb his fingers gently through Eddie’s hair, smoothing it a little bit more, and try and memorize this feeling, since it would probably never happen again.

Around 1 AM though, Richie’s phone chimed again, waking him up, and he groaned, somehow managing to grab it without waking Eddie up. He scrolled through his messages from Bev, and then frowned when he saw one that said _Unknown Number._

**_Unknown Number: Tozier_ **

**_Unknown Number: You better fucking answer, Tozier, this is Victor_ **

**_Unknown Number: I need your help_ **

**_Unknown Number: I didn’t do it, I swear to god. I don’t know anyone else smart enough to help me. So do it, and when I get back I’ll consider not making you and your faggot friends’ lives hell._ **

_Richie: How do I know this is really you?_

**_Unknown Number sent a picture._ **

Richie stared down at the picture of Victor scowling down at the phone.

**_Unknown Number: Believe me now?_ **

_Richie: Just hold on._

Richie hated to wake Eddie up, but he did, shaking him gently. “Eds, wake up. Please.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie mumbled sleepily, not opening his eyes. “Go ‘way, Chee.”

“Edward Spagedward, Eddiebear, Eds, wakey wakey.” Richie said, and Eddie just curled up tighter.

“You’re just a dream. Go ‘way.” He repeated grumpily, and Richie could still see that he was half asleep.

“I’m not a dream. Wake up. All the way.”

Eddie opened his eyes just a little bit, but Richie could see they were still foggy with sleep, even as he glared defiantly at Richie. He grabbed Richie’s shirt and yanked him close, kissing him a little forcefully. Richie stayed still, shock enveloping his senses so that all he could think was _I’m kissing Eddie I’m kissing Eddie I’m kissing Eddie I’m kissing Eddie I’m kissing Eddie_ over and over and over again. Eddie’s lips fit perfectly against his own, and he smelled faintly of soap and some sort of candy that Richie couldn’t identify. After a minute, Eddie pulled away, looking like he’d just proved his point, and curled back up again. “See? Dream.” Richie just gaped down at him, at a loss for words.

Suddenly, Eddie shot back up, eyes going wide. “Oh my god. Not a dream.”

“Nope,” Richie said weakly, looking like he’d just lost the ability to breathe. Eddie’s hands flew up to cover his mouth, staring at Richie. Richie could practically see his chest tightening, the anxiety that was probably racing through him right now, but he couldn’t get himself to say anything.

“Oh-oh god, Richie, I’m so sorry, I thought- I’m sorry.” Eddie said, stumbling over his words as he continued to ramble out an apology.

“Stop, Eds, it’s okay,” Richie said, reaching out and resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We can talk about it later, okay? We’re _definitely_ talking about it later. But we have a problem right now. I got a text.” He held up the phone, and saw Eddie’s eyes hesitantly leave his face to look at the phone. “It’s from Victor.”

 

~*~

 

All seven of the Losers sat in the diner nearby, and six of them all stared at Richie expectantly. He had texted them all (except Eddie, of course, because Eddie was with him) to meet him at the diner, that it was urgent, and that he would explain when they got there. Now, Richie and Eddie sat next to each other, along with Mike. Ben, Bev, Stan and Bill all sat together across from them, in a big booth. Eddie hadn’t said much to Richie after what had happened as they waited for the others to get there, and for once, Richie hadn’t said much to Eddie, either, though he really wanted to. But Eddie made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it right now, so Richie just… didn’t.

“Wh-what happened?” Bill asked, breaking the silence, and Richie snapped out of his thoughts.

“Victor texted me,” Richie said, fingers tapping against the table rapidly and leg bouncing up and down. Eddie rolled his eyes and took the cup off coffee that Richie had in his hand away from him, which was probably a good idea. Richie felt like if he had any more energy, he might explode. “He said he didn’t do it, and that he needs my help.” Richie continued nervously, looking to see what the others would think. Ben stared at him.

“Really? He texted me, too,” Ben said, pulling out his phone and showing Richie the texts. Richie stared at him, unsure what to say. Bill frowned, thinking.

“Guys, I-I don’t think th-that’s Victor,” Bill said quietly, and both of them turned to look at Bill curiously. “R-remember that guy who texted y-you pretending to be m-muh-me?” Bill asked Stan, and Stan gave a slow nod. “I-I think it’s the same g-guy.”

“Okay. So what should we do then?” Richie asked, biting his lips. Eddie glanced over at him, gaze flickering down to Richie’s lips distractedly.

“Tell the cops?” Eddie said, and looked away from Richie’s lips, back at the group. Beverly was staring at him, questions in her eyes, as if suddenly noticing the tension between Eddie and Richie, but Eddie didn’t meet her gaze.

“Sounds good to me,” Ben agreed, and Stan and Bill both made various noises of agreement. Bev hesitated.

“What if we do tell the cops and it’s actually Victor? He’ll make life a living hell. Well, more than it already is.” She said quietly. “We could just… all go. Bring knives or a baseball bat or…” she hesitated. “My dad has a gun that I could bring.”

“So does mine,” Richie chimed in, and Bev nodded.

“I mean, as long as we stick together, we should be fine,” Bev said, and Ben looked over at her, uncertain.

“I still think we should go to the cops,” Mike said quietly. “I mean, we’ve been dealing with them for years. I’m sure we’ll be fine. It’s better than one of us ending up dead because we decided to be reckless and go meet him by ourselves.”

Bev hesitated again, but then nodded in agreement.

“S-So we’re all a-a-agreed, then? Cops?” Bill asked, and everyone gave a mutual nod. “G-Great. Let’s g-go.”

 

~*~

 

Bill sat along with the rest of the Losers out in the waiting room of the police station. They had all headed straight there after their conversation, and Richie and Ben had been brought in for questioning. Now, they had just gotten back out after a half hour or more in the interrogation room. Ben had sat back down by Beverly, and Richie had sat back down by Eddie, but both of them were at least an inch apart, and Eddie had tensed up at first when Richie sat back down.

Bill wondered quietly what was going on between them. He knew that everyone else could sense the tension, too, and he knew that something had happened between them that neither of them wanted to talk about. Whatever it was, he hoped they’d get over it soon. Richie was abnormally quiet and wasn’t making jokes, and Eddie kept glancing over at Richie and then away again quickly, looking on edge. All Bill knew was that Eddie had gone over to Richie’s house last night, and he wondered if they had gotten into a fight or something.

Breaking off from his thoughts about Richie and Eddie, he looked up as the office door opened, and his mom walked out. He made a small noise of surprise, frowning. “M-Mom? What’re y-you doing here?”

“I’m your mom,” she said shortly. “Sheriff Hudson called me as soon as you came.” Bill made a small noise of annoyance, still irritated with her since their fight the night before. He sat back, looking over at Sheriff Hudson came into the room as well.

“So we checked the phone records,” Sheriff Hudson said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “They’re from Victor’s account.”

“W-wait, are you sure? C-Couldn’t someone have u-used his account?” Bill asked, and Sheriff Hudson sighed.

“Yes. But I don’t think that happened. I think this is our chance to bring him in. One of you should text Victor back, agree to meet up with him somewhere. Like the park on Route 9. Then a police escort will go in instead and get him. He won’t get hurt, I promise,” the Sheriff said, like he thought Victor and the Losers were all friends, and Richie simply scoffed.

“I’ll do it,” Ben said, glancing over at Richie. “He might think you’re setting him up.” Richie nodded in agreement, and Ben grabbed his phone, sending a text to Victor. “Okay,” he said as his phone chimed. “He said he’ll meet me there at 9 o’clock tonight.” Sheriff Hudson nodded.

“Okay. All of you should stay at the station until we’ve successfully gotten him into custody. We don’t know where he could be right now, and he could be dangerous. There’s a break room just down the hall, you guys can go in there if you’d like. There’s vending machines and couches and a TV.” Sheriff Hudson said, gesturing down the hallway. Bill, Ben, Bev, Stan, and Mike all got up, heading down into the break room, but Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand, pulling him off to the side and into an empty room.

 

~*~

 

“Richie, we need to talk,” Eddie said quietly, looking incredibly nervous. “We need to talk about _it_ , okay? If you’re gonna hate me, then just hate me already, but I can just take you being quiet and weird towards me. I’m so, so sorry for what I did, okay? And I know it’s too soon after…” Eddie trailed off and shook his head, trying not to think of Ash. “And I’m just… I’m sorry. And I’m really hoping that we can just forget about it because I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Richie, not again. I can’t.” Eddie said, talking so fast that Richie could barely understand what he was saying. Eddie opened his mouth as if he was going to start again, and Richie took a deep breath before leaning forward and cutting him off with a kiss.

He felt Eddie stiffen with surprise, and then slowly felt him relax. In order to reach him, Richie had to lean over because of his long legs, but it was so worth it as he felt Eddie’s hands reach up so that he could weave his fingers through Richie’s curls. Richie shut his eyes, the kiss gentle and tentative between them. After a minute, they pulled apart, and Richie exhaled, a huge smile on his face. Eddie’s face mirrored his, though Eddie’s smile was more shy, and his cheeks were slightly pink.

“O-okay then,” Eddie said, sounding slightly like Bill, and Richie laughed.

“And by the way, I could never hate you,” Richie promised, reaching out and squeezing Eddie’s hand gently.

“Okay,” Eddie mumbled, smiling to himself, and then it faltered with slight uncertainty. “What does this make us, then?” Eddie asked, looking up at Richie uncertainly. Richie gave a quiet shrug, looking back down at him.

“Boyfriends?” He said tentatively. “But only if you want to, of course, I don’t… I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“That’d be great, except…” Eddie said, and Richie’s brief grin faltered slightly. “Just… not around school, okay? I’m not quite ready for that yet,” Eddie said, scratching at his neck nervously like he was worried that Richie would be mad at him. Richie relaxed, relieved that it was something as simple as that.

“Sure thing, Eds. Just whenever it’s you and me.” He said, and then stepped forward slightly to kiss Eddie again, but Bill poked his head around the corner right before he could.

“A-are you g-guys coming?” Bill said, oblivious to what Richie was just about to do, and Eddie’s face went slightly pink.

“Yeah,” Eddie squeaked out, clearing his throat and then repeating it. “Yeah, let’s go.”


	11. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the parts yesterday that I messed up on, I didn't have time to proofread. I also didn't have time to proofread this one, sorry, tomorrow I'll go through and fix the mistakes.

Bill sat with Stan on the couch in the police station’s break room, legs stretched out over Stan’s and watching the TV absentmindedly. Stan’s arms rested on his legs lightly, and Stan was messing around with a Rubik's cube boredly. The police had sent officers to the park about half an hour ago, and had told the Losers to wait. As far as Bill could tell, they’d be there for about another hour at least. But if that meant they’d catch whatever creep was actually doing this, than he’d sit here for the next day if he had to.

Eddie and Richie had apparently talked about whatever had happened between them, because they seemed to be a lot closer than before, and Richie was back to cracking jokes like normal. And while it still seemed a little off putting, everything that was going on around them, at least that was back to normal. Bill wouldn't have wanted anything more- all of the Losers, back together at last. He didn’t care if he lost his reputation, he didn’t care if Henry and Patrick and Belch all decided go after them even more now that they were all back. He was just glad that he didn’t have to deal with the fighting anymore.

He glanced over at Stan as his phone chimed, and Stan glanced back at him. “It’s my mom, she’s wondering where I am. I guess I forgot to tell her,” Stan said, giving Bill a reassuring smile because he could see how spooked Bill was. This whole Brandon James thing was putting him on edge.

“O-okay.” Bill said, taking his feet off of Stan’s lap and sitting upright, curling into himself a little to make himself more comfortable on the couch. He continued to watch the TV absentmindedly, though really he was focused on Eddie and Richie’s banter across the room, all of it playful and teasing and yet… there seemed to be something more underneath it. Bill could really tell if he payed lots of attention, how their gazes seemed to linger on each other a little bit longer than necessary, the playful shoves and the laughs. It wasn’t much different than what usually went on between them, but something about this was different. They seemed a lot closer.

His thoughts were interrupted by his mom walking into the room, looking at something on her phone and looking upset. Bill felt a twinge of fear go through him, sitting up straight and waiting to hear what she would say.

“Victor set them up,” Sharon said softly, but since she had walked in, the room had been dead silent, and everybody heard. Bill saw Richie’s foot tap Eddie’s gently twice, and Eddie seemed somewhat comforted it by it, just slightly, for some reason. It was like a reminder that Richie was there with him and that everything was gonna be fine. Bill wished that Stan was there without even realizing that he was wishing for it. “He didn’t show,” she continued, louder this time, voice solemn.

“S-So what now? Do w-weh-we just wait here?”

“Until it’s safe, yes.” His mom said, nodding quietly. “They think that Victor might have set that up as a distraction so he could plan another attack. You guys are supposed to stay here until they say it’s okay to leave.” Bill hesitated, and then nodded, sinking back into the choice with fear filling his whole body. The words _he might be planning another attack_ ran through his head over and over again, and he couldn’t help but think _If he wanted to show_ us _the truth, that means any of us could be next._ And then he felt a chill run throughout his whole body.

“Where’s Stan?”

 

~*~

 

Stan ducked outside, the warm summer air calming him slightly. It was a nice temperature outside, and you could see faint stars. Stan really liked it when most of the lights in Derry shut off, because since it was such a small city, and there weren’t any big cities surrounding it, at night you could see tons and tons of stars. He loved to count them, even though he knew that he’d never be able to count them all. He also loved to make wishes on them, as childish as it seemed. Space and the sky and everything above him fascinated him- his fascination with stars was (almost, but not quite) as great as his fascination with birds, and he used to same notebook to jot down constellations as he did to write about and sketch the birds that he saw.

He pulled out his phone, texting his mom that he was over at Bill’s so that he wouldn’t have to explain and have her freak out on him. Then he set his phone down on the bench beside him, tilting his head back and just letting himself relax and look at the stars. The whole thing with Audra and Bill had been stressful enough- he could recall with perfect clarity the feeling of dread that had gathered in his stomach both times that Audra had talked to Bill and they had walked off together in the past day- and now he had to deal with Victor on top of all that. Honestly, he just wanted to go home and sleep, and then in the morning go out and sit at the park and watch the birds fly.

He felt guilt fill his stomach, and he let out a gentle sigh, thinking over the past days quietly to himself. He felt sure that any day now he was going to tell Bill his secret- after all, Stan knew all of Bill’s, and what were best friends for? Bill would understand, Stan knew, even if it was hard for him to get used to it at first. He wasn’t like other guys, who would make a comment about Stan being disgusting because of how he felt, even though he couldn’t help it. He wouldn’t call Stan a fag, and he wouldn’t stop being his friend, and he knew that none of the other Losers would, either. But it was still scary for him, and he kept putting it off over and over and over again. He decided that tonight he would tell him, and maybe he would tell him how he felt, not just about guys, but about Bill, personally.

Okay, maybe not that. Not yet. That might take a little bit more courage than Stan had right now, but that was okay. He’d build up to it, and everything would be fine. Or so he hoped. He also really, really hoped that Bill and Audra wouldn’t get back together again. He didn’t know if he could handle watching Audra treat Bill like shit and watch Bill just take it. Then again, half the time, Bill didn’t even notice what Audra was doing in the first place, so Stan really couldn’t blame him. He let out a soft, irritated sigh as his phone chimed twice, but he ignored it. Instead of looking over and answering his messages, he turned on Do Not Disturb and turned his phone off again, never noticing the figure that had melted into the shadows behind him.

 

~*~

 

Bill swore under his breath as five minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Stan. He hadn’t texted him back or answered any of his calls, and Bill couldn’t see him outside. Worry flooded through him in strong waves, and he couldn’t stop his thoughts of what might be happening. As he typed on his phone, his hands shook so badly that he had to re-type some of the words at least three times over again until he finally got them right.

_Bill: Stan please_

_Bill: please answer your phone and tell me you’re ok_

_Bill: victor set them up_

_Bill: he’s still out there and he’s dangerous_

_Bill: please please please answer your phone_

He waited, scrolling up and down the seemingly endless texts that he had sent Stan, begging for him to answer the phone. None of them even said _Read_ underneath, and Bill’s hands were sweaty as they gripped his phone tight. Finally, he gave up on trying to text Stan, and instead clicked on the Unknown Number on his phone.

_Bill: Please don’t hurt my friends._

He hated feeling helpless, but he didn’t know what else to do. He could vaguely hear Ben talking on the phone, probably into Stan’s voicemail telling him to call one of the Losers back, but Bill hadn’t even tried leaving a message. He’d get the message when he saw that Bill had almost called him over 40 times in the past hour. And besides that, he knew from trying to talk to his mom that his stutter was so bad he wouldn’t even be able to get any of the words out. Texting was the best he could do right now, and hopefully Stan would be fine, maybe his phone died or something, that was all. The remaining police weren’t enough to be any help looking for Stan, and the others were still scouring every inch of the park, looking for any sign that Victor had been there to watch them make a fool out of themselves while they waited for someone who was never going to come.

**_Unknown: You’re the one who decided you’re done with me._ **

**_Unknown: Now you’re the one that has to choose._ **

**_Unknown: (image sent) Him?_ **

Bill stared down at the fuzzy picture of Stan on a bench, looking up at the stars. His phone sat next to him, but Bill already knew why Stan wasn’t answering just by looking at the picture. Stan always silenced his phone to watch the stars, because he didn’t want anything to disturb him.

**_Unknown: (image sent) Or her?_ **

Now there was a picture of Audra, outside as well, talking to someone on the phone and mid-laugh. Bill felt like he’d just gotten punched in the stomach, staring down at the phone screen with a sick feeling in his stomach. _This can’t be happening._

_Bill: You can’t make me do that._

**_Unknown: You choose, or I do._ **

_Okay,_ Bill thought to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. _Audra was on the phone, which means if I call her and tell her to get somewhere safe, she can do it. It’ll be okay._

He dialed Audra’s number, and Audra picked up on the third ring. Relief went through Bill’s body. “Audra? Where are you?”

 _“I’m at home,”_ Audra responded, sounding puzzled, and Bill exhaled in relief.

“Okay. I need you to lock all of your doors and windows, okay? I’ll explain later, I just need you to do this for me. Don’t answer the door for anyone, even if someone you know texts you. Okay?”

_“Um, okay? I guess?”_

“I’ll explain later, I promise.” Bill said, and then hung up without another word. In the back of his mind he registered the fact that she would probably be pissed at him tomorrow for doing that, but he honestly didn’t care enough to call her back and apologize or even text her. Right now, he just wanted to get Stan out of there.

_Bill: Please don’t kill him_

**_Unknown: As you wish._ **

Bill’s shaking ceased slightly, but he wished that Stan would just answer his phone already. Stress raced through him, trying not to think about the fact that whoever was doing this could change his mind at any moment. Stan could be dead in the next five minutes anyway.

“R-R-Richie, d-d-do you h-ha-have your c-c-cuh-car h-here?” Bill said, trying hard to not let his stutter get the best of him. Richie nodded, standing up. Eddie did too, and so did everyone else.

“Where are we going?” Mike asked, because he knew that they all needed to go. If Stan really was d- gone when they got there, then they all needed to be there for each other instead of just one of them finding him. Bill had a bad feeling about this, about all of it. What if whoever it was decided not to listen to Bill? At least Audra was safe, but Stan… Stan was defenseless against whoever it was. He had no idea what might happen, had no warning… and against a knife, he was as good as dead.

Bill shut his eyes, trying to picture where Stan had been. It couldn’t have been too far from the police station in the short time that Stan had to walk, and it was a wide open space, that much was obvious, because Bill knew that Stan hated to try and watch the stars when there were buildings in his way. “The p-p-puh-park,” Bill said finally, though he sounded uncertain. “We h-h-have to hurry, h-h-he might leave, o-o-or…” he trailed off, and the others just nodded, grim expressions on their faces.

Less than five minutes later, all of the Losers were crammed into Richie’s truck as Richie started up the engine. Eddie was sitting shotgun of course, and Bill, Ben, Mike and Bev all were crammed into the back. Richie’s truck could usually fit five people, but there was room for 6 if they all squished. And right now, that was definitely what they were doing. But Bill couldn’t bring himself to care, thoughts just on getting there in time. Almost as soon as he thought that, his phone’s ringtone went off. When he looked down and saw that it was Stan calling him, he was so happy he could have cried.

“Stan?” Bill said immediately, gripping the truck’s seat. As soon as Bill said Stan’s name, the uneasy conversation in the car ceased. All of them except for Richie were staring at him, trying to listen to the conversation.

 _“Bill?”_ Stan said, sounding confused. _“What the hell is going on? You’ve called me 37 times in the past half hour, and there’s at least twice as many texts. Is something wrong?”_

“H-Have you r-r-read the texts y-yet?” Bill asked.

 _“No, I called you first. What’s wrong?”_ Stan asked, hearing the tension in Bill’s voice.

“You’re i-in d-d-danger. V-Victor didn’t show u-up, and they th-th-think that he’s p-p-puh-planning an attack. St-stay there though, w-we’re on our w-wuh-way. Just b-b-be careful.”

 _“I will.”_ Stan’s voice was quiet. _“I see someone I think, but I don’t think they see me. I can’t tell. They’re in the shadows.”_

“ _Wh-what?”_ Bill said, and he saw Eddie jump slightly in his seat at how loud Bill’s voice was. “Get out of there!”

“ _I don’t think they’ve seen me, Bill, I think I’m okay.”_ Stan said, but Bill felt like something was wrong. When was it ever that easy? Something was wrong, and he could tell. Fear made his hands clammy around the phone, and he knew he must look like a ghost from how pale he was, but he didn’t care.

“ _Wait…”_ Stan said, and the pure fear in Stan’s voice made chills run up and down Bill’s forearms. _“They saw me. There’s… there’s something dripping from his sleeve, I don’t know what it is.”_ There was a moment of pure silence, so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. “ _Oh god, Bill, he’s holding a knife. And I think it’s dripping with blood,”_ Stan said, and then all sound seemed to fade become muffled, like Stan had shoved the phone in his pocket and taken off.

_Bill: Please don’t hurt him please please please he hasn’t done anything and he doesn’t deserve this PLEASE_

There was no response from the Unknown Number, and Bill tried hard to control himself. “Goddammit, Richie, can you drive _any_ faster?” Bill said, voice coming out a lot harsher than he meant to, but he didn’t care. Right now, all he cared about was Stan. _Any minute now, we’ll be there, and he’ll be okay._

Bill lifted to phone back up to his ear, and after a couple seconds there was suddenly loud breathing heard on the other side, and then Stan whispered, _“I think I’m okay, I don’t see him. Bill, I-”_ there was a sharp cry from the other side of the phone, and he heard what sounded like the phone smashing to the ground as it was dropped from a high height.

“Stan?” He shouted into the phone. “Stan? _Stan?!”_ The car jerked forward noticeably, a sign that Richie no longer gave a shit about the red lights or traffic or anything. He cut through the grass, and they skidded to a halt in the middle of the park, the car looking way out of place in the nature. None of them cared.

They all got out, and all started calling Stan’s name, but none of them could hear anything except for the crickets, and Bill’s heart pounded. On the other side of the phone, Bill heard Stan let out a shout of _“Don’t!”_ and then what sounded like the trickling of water, but Bill knew that it wasn’t water. It was much worse.

“No no no no,” Bill whispered, and the world felt like it was shattering around him. “Stan, where are you?” He shouted into the phone. “Just give me a place, I can- I’ll find you, Stan, I promise!” He hoped to god or whoever was up there that Stan was still alive, that there was a chance. That he could save him.

“ _Bill?”_ Said a voice weakly on the other side of the line, and Bill nearly let out a sob of relief.

“Stan, where are you?” He repeated, but Stan didn’t seem to have heard him.

 _“I don’t… Victor… Bill, I’m s…”_ Stan’s voice trailed off, like he didn’t have enough strength to finish his sentence.

“Stan, just tell me where you are, okay? Tell me what you see.”

There was a small laugh that turned into a sob from the other line, and then he heard a faint whisper from Stan. _“I see the stars.”_


	12. The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of short compared to the others, but that's okay because I like the content in it? It kind of makes up for it, so I hope you like it. Also, I once again didn't have time to proofread, but tomorrow I'll reread the chapters and fix mistakes when I update.

Bill sat staring numbly at the white linoleum floor, arms wrapped around himself. Richie sat on his right side, and Mike was on his left. Beside Mike was Ben and then Bev, and on Richie’s other side sat Eddie. They took up most of the plastic chairs that sat in the waiting room, and they had been there for so long that Eddie had fallen asleep, head on Richie’s shoulder, and Bev was spread out across two chairs as comfortably as possible, head in Ben’s lap as she tried to sleep to pass time. But Bill was wide awake, and uncomfortably warm in the small room as he sat and waited.

He hated the white tile floor, white walls, bright lights, everything, White and clean and pristine. He knew that Stan wouldn’t have minded, in fact he would probably love how clean and neat everything was, but right now all it was doing was irritating Bill. He was stuck in this stupid waiting room, had been since 10 o’clock that night, waiting and waiting and waiting and _waiting._ And he was sick of it, but there was nothing that he could do. He had sat there without emotion as couples came and left, kids following them around happily or sometimes with tears streaming down their face. He had sat there, feeling nothing at all, while people came in, saw doctors, went out again, with something as simple as a prescription to solve their problems.

Meanwhile, Stan was in another room, unconscious and barely breathing, and Bill couldn’t do anything to help him.

The whole night leading up to… to that went so fast that it was almost a blur to Bill, and yet it kept replaying over and over again in his mind in perfect clarity. Stan’s voice whispering _I see the stars_ in his mind made him want to break down right in the middle of waiting room and yet it wouldn’t leave him. That was all he could hear, all he could see, all he could think. The way Ben had yelled-

_“Over here!” Ben shouted, running towards a dark figure that lay unmoving at least a hundred yards away. Bill broke into a sprint, and though Ben had a headstart, Bill had beaten him there, falling down to the ground before he could even pause to take a breath._

_“Stan, o-oh my god.” Bill reached out, but he didn’t want to touch him for fear of hurting him even more. Blood pooled around both of them, staining their clothes, but Bill didn’t care in the slightest. “S-Someone-!” He started, but Richie cut him off, voice tense and shaking slightly._

_“I called them as soon as we got here. They’ll be here any minute now.” He said, and Bill didn’t notice how Eddie had grabbed onto Richie’s hand and squeezed it hard, and Richie had pulled him into a tight hug._

_Stan was bleeding heavily from a deep gash across his chest, and Bill hoped that it wasn’t deep enough to have cut any major organs or anything that Stan needed to survive. But if the medics didn’t show up soon, it wouldn’t matter. Stan would have lost too much blood. Tears started to run down Bill’s face, and he pulled Stan off of the hard ground into his lap, holding him close. Bill saw Stan’s eyes flutter open just slightly, and his head fell to the side slightly, resting against Bill’s chest. He could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer, and he clung onto Stan desperately._

_“Just hold on,” He whispered hoarsely, not even knowing if Stan could hear him or not. Stan didn’t acknowledge it, breathing weak and shallow. “They’re almost here, Stan, just hold on for me, okay?”_

After that, Bill could barely remember anything. The paramedics had come in, and had (forcibly, Bill refused to let go at first) removed Stan from Bill before taking him into the ambulance. Because Bill was also covered in blood, they wanted to make sure he wasn’t injured, and he wasn’t about to turn down the offer to ride with Stan in the ambulance and tell them that it wasn’t his blood, it was Stan’s. So he was ushered into the ambulance as well and off they went, Bill gripping his hand the whole time, two fingers on Stan’s wrist so he could feel the faint pulse and make sure it was still there.

When they had gotten there, they had wheeled Stan into a different room and he hadn’t been seen since. Bill didn’t know if he was dead or alive. The others all got into Richie’s truck, and when Bill had gotten out of his mandatory wound check, they were all there waiting for him. He had stood there, in the middle of the room, and Richie bit his lip.

“Bill?” Richie said softly, and as soon as the word was uttered, Bill started to cry, sinking to the ground. They had all at once rushed to his side, and all surrounded him, the six of them huddled on the floor clinging onto each other like it was the last time they’d ever get to see each other again.

After about 10 minutes they had pulled apart slowly, and moved to the chairs to wait for someone to give them an update on Stan. Now, almost 4 hours later, there was still no word on him, and it was almost 3 A.M.. Visiting hours were technically over, but none of the Losers had budged the multiple times that the receptionist had told them it was time to go, and it was clear that they weren’t planning to, either. Finally, she had just stopped trying, and let them stay there. Bill was silently grateful for that, because he knew that if she really wanted to, then she could call security on them and get them thrown out.

Around half an hour later, a nurse came in to talk to them, and Bill sat up so fast that he almost toppled his chair over.

“He’s stable for now,” the nurse said briskly, and Bill nearly cried again for the third time that night. “He lost a lot of blood, but if you let him rest a _lot_ and keep him away from any strenuous activity, he should be okay soon enough. He’ll need to stay here for a couple of days, so we can make sure that we didn’t miss anything and so that he can get the proper rest that he needs, but he’ll be okay. You can visit him when visiting hours start again, because he needs his rest. And you’ll have to go one at a time. If his heart rate gets too high or he gets freaked out for some reason, he won’t be allowed any more visitors until tomorrow, so I suggest you take it easy on him. And I suggest that you all go home now, it’s gonna be awhile before you can see him,” she added, but none of them moved.

Richie got comfortable, and Eddie twitched but didn’t wake up fully, just moving closer to Richie and falling back asleep. Bev shut her eyes again and attempted to fall asleep, but Bill stayed awake, unable to fall asleep or stop thinking about what had happened. It was going to be a long four hours.

~*~

 

Bill was awake when the same nurse came in at 7:03 and told them that they could go in and see Stan. Bill looked around to see if someone else wanted to go first, even though he could barely hold himself back. Almost as if he sensed what Bill was thinking, Richie nodded to him. “Go on, Bill, we can wait a little longer,” he said, and his voice was gentle, and Bill didn’t even ask him if he was sure before he was out the door, following the nurse to the room that Stan was in. It was on the second floor, room 203.

When he walked inside, Stan was already awake, and it was slightly unnerving how messy he was in general. His curly hair was even messier than usual, looking like it hadn’t been combed in the past three days, though Bill knew that wasn’t true. He had bags under his eyes, and he looked exhausted, but there was a certain way that they lit up when Stan saw him that made Bill’s heart swell in his chest. There was an IV in Stan’s arm, and the heart monitor by the bedside sped up slightly. Neither of them noticed, and Bill had to restrain himself from rushing forward and sweeping Stan up into his arms, and hugging him so tight that he couldn’t breathe.

“He’s heavily medicated,” the nurse said. “So anything that he says or does may be a result of that. Otherwise, he’s all yours.” She said, and ducked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her.

Bill walked forward to stand beside Stan, and Stan gave him a tired smile, looking up at Bill from where he lay on the bed. Bill reached out and touched his arm gently, the one without the IV in it, just to make sure that this was real and not a dream. He exhaled softly, and couldn’t help it- his eyes started to tear up again. Stan was here, and he was okay. Everything was fine.

“Hey, Bill,” Stan said softly, and Bill’s breath left him in a rush.

“H-hi, Stan,” he mumbled softly, pulling a chair from the side of the room up to Stan’s bedside and sitting down. “H-How you f-f-feeling?”

“Good. I think.” Stan said, and gave a small giggle, which was unlike Stan. “It’s kind of… numb.”

“A-As long as i-it’s not painful, th-that’s okay.” Bill said with a soft smile, and Stan gave another giggle.

“You didn’t do that yesterday.”

“Wh-What?” Bill said, frowning at Stan. Stan gave a quiet giggle again.

“Stutter. You didn’t do that last night when you were talking to me.” Stan said, long and nimble fingers taking Bill’s hand and tracing along the palm of it. Bill tried to ignore the butterflies that went through his stomach at Stan’s touch.

“I a-a-always stuh-stutter, Stan. Believe m-me, I’ve tried t-t-to stop i-it.” Bill said, though Bill honestly couldn’t remember any more. Had he stuttered?

“Nooo,” Stan whined, looking matter-of-fact as he said, “You sounded sad and scared. But you didn’t stutter. I remember.”  

Bill stared at him for a moment, blinking in surprise but brushing it off. “Okay,” he murmured, and Stan kept tracing his palm distractedly. Bill wondered how many painkillers Stan was on at the moment, because Stan was usually a little bit more quiet and reserved.

“Is everyone else okay?” Stan mumbled, face growing serious again as he looked at Bill, and then relaxing in relief when Bill nodded. “Good. ‘M sorry for making you worry,” Stan said, gaze focused on Bill’s hand.

“ _You’re_ sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, Stan, really.”

Stan continued like he’d never heard Bill. “And ‘m sorry for her. For letting her do that to you. I would’ve done better.” At this, Bill froze slightly.

“Y-You could h-have d-d-done what b-better, Stan?”

What Stan said next Bill barely registered, shock flooding through him. “Loved you.” Stan said, fingers stopping their movements on Bill’s palm as he looked up at him. Bill had never seen such an open look on Stan’s face, open and honest and true.

“I… you… l-love me?” Bill asked weakly, and Stan gave a nod and a smile, like he was pleased that Bill had finally figured it out.

“Very much. I love you very much.” Stan mumbled lazily, as if not even realizing that Bill’s  hand had starting shaking and he had gone deathly silent, not breathing. Stan lifted Bill’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently, smiling to himself. He was starting to look extremely tired once more, and had started playing with Bill’s fingers.

“I-I think you sh-should get s-s-some sleep,” Bill said quietly, pulling his hand away. Stan gave a sleepy nod, resting his head on his pillows and shutting his eyes. Bill curled the hand that Stan had previously been holding into a loose fist, staring at it blankly for a minute before exhaling softly. _He’s probably just loopey from the meds. It’s probably nothing._ He turned, walking outside. As he shut the door behind him, though, he glanced back into the room and murmured so softly that no one else could hear it.

“I l-love you t-too, Stan.”


	13. Audra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys, I haven't been having a lot of time lately. But this weekend I plan to get a lot of writing done, so we can get back to 3,000 word chapters and more drama. P.S., more Stenbrough coming soon :)

The next day started off pretty smoothly. Bill slept for the first time in a long time, knowing that Stan was okay and Victor was out of the picture. About an hour after everyone was done visiting Stan, Bill’s mom had come in looking grim and upset. As soon as Bill saw her, he put his phone away, frowning. “What’s w-wr-wrong?”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” She said quietly, and unease filled Bill’s stomach. He glanced over to where the other Losers sat, preoccupied by either each other or their phones.

“G-Good news.”

“Victor’s dead. A deputy saw a car like his leaving the park around the time that the medics were called, and they chased him off. He lost control of the car and went over the side of the bridge. The car exploded, and once they got the fire out they found most of his body. Everything except the head. And they found the Brandon James mask by the car.” Bill could help the shakey smile of relief that took over his face. That meant that this was over, right?

“O-Okay. And what’s the b-b-bad news?”

“They found Audra’s body.” She said quietly, voice soft. Bill froze in horror, feeling like he was gonna be sick. He had known that whoever it was had gone after Stan, but they had gone after Audra, too? They had killed her?

 _He,_ Bill reminded himself. _And now he’s dead._ “H-How…?”

“She was behind her house,” Sharon studied Bill, and while he looked shell shocked and upset, she couldn’t help but notice that it was nothing compared to how it had been when he had been here waiting and waiting for any news about Stan. “She had two stab wounds to the chest and had lost too much blood by the time that… that her parents found her.”

“Oh god,” he whispered, sinking into one of the chairs. _It’s all my fault,_ Bill thought to himself, fingers coming up to tug at his hair in distress. _All of this is my fault._

 

~*~

 

“ _Honestly, guys, this is a tough one to talk about. I mean, I’ve covered some terrible things, but last night, I felt it. The hunt for Victor Criss ended in tragedy, and another Derry teen lost her life. And the press will by hyping the curse of Brandon James and looking for someone to blame, but… I’ve met these kids. Their loss is impossible to explain, so… I’m not even gonna try. My heartfelt condolences go to the friends and family of Audra Phillips. I’m so sorry for your loss.”_ Nancy Wheeler, Autopsy of a Crime.

 

~*~

 

The next few days passed without incident. Bill mostly stayed up in his rooms, and the Losers would all go and visit him from time to time, spending as much time there as they could before they were either sent home by Mrs. Denbrough or called home by their parents. Richie and Eddie were closer than ever, and any waking moment that Bill wasn’t curled up on his bed doing nothing, he was at Stan’s side in the hospital. Stan hadn’t seemed to remember anything about the other day, so Bill didn’t mention it and they didn’t talk about it. But Bill couldn’t help but hate himself about it. Because while he had been busy thinking about how Stan was in love with him (and more importantly, how he was in love with Stan), Audra had been dying, bleeding out on the soft grass of her backyard, alone.

Now matter how many times his friends repeated to him that it wasn’t his fault, he never believed them. He should have gone to check up on her instead of going to the hospital. But if he was truly honest with himself, he knew he would have gone with Stan anyway. Which was another reason why he blamed himself for it.

Today was the day that there’d be a town meeting, which meant that all of the few people who lived in Derry would gather into one room and listen to the mayor talk about what had happened. Bill really didn’t feel like going, but his mom had told him that he didn’t have a choice in the matter because it was time for him to get up and get moving again, and honestly, he agreed with her. He couldn’t mope around about Audra forever, he knew, everything just felt better when the only thing he had to worry about in his life was if James from The End of the F***ing World would actually fall in love with Alyssa or if he would kill her.

Getting dressed was a chore today that he really didn’t want to do. He had been sitting in the same sweatpants and loose band t-shirt for about three days now, and probably smelled like it, too, but he didn’t care. He decided to wait until he got back to take a shower, and just put on some faint cologne, deodorant, and picked out the nicest, cleanest shirt that he owned. He ran his fingers through his hair to comb it, but other than that he didn’t really change anything about his appearance besides his clothes. You could definitely see the bags under his eyes, and his hair was greasy and flat and he probably looked really gross, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

Briefly, he wondered if Stan would have gotten the same attention as Audra if he’d… well, it wasn’t important. But Bill didn’t think he would’ve. Everyone had known Audra, and she’d had connections with everyone in some way. She was popular, she was pretty, and she was (or at least, pretended to be) the girl that mothers wanted their songs to fall in love with. Stan was less popular and Jewish, and that was enough to get treated like you never existed in Derry.

Not that any of that was important. No, what was important right now was getting through the next hour to hour and a half so that he could come home, take a shower, and curl up in the permanent indentation that was in his bed from him laying in it for three days in a row.

Driving there, Bill dozed off against the car window almost half a dozen times, and the ride wasn’t even half an hour long. He was as tired as he would be during finals week at school, when all he would do is stay up all night and study for his tests. And yet he hadn’t been to school in at least a week, all of the teachers saying that they understood and that it was perfectly fine. Bill didn’t see how they could understand. His ex-girlfriend had gotten killed and his best friend had almost died, too.

When they got there, Richie and Eddie were sitting outside the building on a bench, talking to each other. Bill headed away from his mom, who went inside and started talking to another adult, and Bill sat down next to Eddie and Richie quietly. Stan wouldn’t attending the meeting, he knew, because he still hadn’t been discharged from the hospital and Bill was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be for two more days at least. Soon enough they were joined by Mike, and then Bev, and finally Ben, who looked like he had jogged all the way there, because he was sweating and had his headphones in, brushing his hair back. Sometimes, Bill remembered the old Ben, chubby, bullied Ben, and it always surprised him when he really thought about it how much Ben had changed.

Besides the fact that he had started running and joined the track team, and lost a bunch of wait, Ben looked a lot more mature, and had kind eyes that always seemed drawn to Beverly. He was tall, too, he had started growing around the same time as Richie and while Richie was still one or two inches taller, Ben was definitely up there. He was always kind in everything that he said, but that hadn’t really changed, he had always been that way. Some things had evidently stayed the same- for example, he still loved school (though not necessarily the people in it) and he loved to read. It was still the same old Ben underneath, just a different body.

Bill was brought out of his thoughts when a bell chimed from the top of the building (Derry did love it’s drama), signalling it was time to go inside and start the meeting. They all went in, talking amongst themselves in low, quiet tones. Bill could hear Eddie scolding Richie for not even trying to dress up nicer than usual, wearing one of his hawaiian shirts with palm trees on it. Mostly though, Bill was focused on the Mayor speaking as he walked through the doors.

“Good morning, my friends,” the Mayor started, and Bill couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he sat down next to Ben and Beverly. “I know that we’re all still reeling from the events of the past days. And the loss to the community is something that we will feel for years to come. I also know that there are a lot of rumors floating around, and I’m here to dispel those. Last night, it appears that Victor Criss attacked Audra Phillips-” Bill winced at her name, “- and Stanley Uris. Audra died of her injuries.” The Mayor gave a pause, as if letting that sink in, and then continued. Now, security footage shows that her assailant was wearing the same mask as the person who killed Nina Patterson. And that mask was found in the wreckage of Tyler's car. Our ME is running forensic tests to confirm that the body found inside that car is in fact that of Victor Criss’s. But I am confident we've got our man. It's over.”

Bill felt a rush of relief pass through him again, even though he had heard that already. Something about the Mayor confirming it made him feel a little bit better about it, even if it didn’t completely wash away the feelings of unease. Apparently, that’s all the Mayor felt the need to say, because he gave a nod and turned away, walking out of the room quietly without even offering to answer questions.


	14. Vote Richie!

“Hey, excuse me?” Richie followed Sheriff Hudson through the hallway, crowds of people from the meeting swarming the halls as they quickly left. “Sheriff Hudson?”

Sheriff Hudson turned toward him expectantly, and Richie tapped his fingers against his thigh in an offbeat pattern that made sense to no one but himself. “What about Ash? Do you think Victor killed him, too?” It came out more of an accusation that Richie meant it to, sounding more like ‘How stupid could you be?’ than genuinely curious to see what the Sheriff thought. The Sheriff narrowed his eyes at Richie, frowning.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. We just opened the investigation.”

“But you _are_ investigating it, right?” Now there was the proper amount of accusation in his tone, and the look on the Sheriff’s face, unease, did nothing at all to help Richie’s suspicions that the police were just blaming it all on Victor and not actually doing anything. “You’re not gonna just pin it on Victor and end the case?”

“No one’s pinning it on anybody.” Sheriff Hudson looked around, and Richie wondered if he was looking for an escape from Richie and his questions. Apparently, he found it. “Bill,” Sheriff Hudson said, and Bill snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look at the two of them. He had been walking down the hall to the exit, but now stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets and waiting for Sheriff Hudson to tell him the reason that he stopped him. “Maybe you should take your friend to a grief counselor,” Sheriff Hudson said, gesturing at Richie. He then turned and walked the opposite way.

Richie grit his teeth and started after him, but Bill grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. “R-Richie, d-don’t. We’re g-g-gonna figure this o-out, okay?”

“Yeah right.” Richie scowled, normally light and carefree expression now gone and replaced with one of anger. “Everyone thinks that it’s Victor. That’s all they wanna believe.”

“I kn-know,” Bill said grimly, and Richie looked up at him. “Th-that’s what I’m worried about.”

“You don’t believe that it’s Victor?”

“I-I d-don’t want to th-think otherw-wise, b-b-but even if V-V-Victor did kill Greta and A-A-Ah-Ah-” Bill stopped and swallowed thickly, looking down. “Then I don’t u-understand wh-why torment m-muh-me? Th-this is different th-then a-a-all the other t-tuh-times when he’s d-d-done it.”

After a moment, Richie nodded, gaze on Bill’s, and uttered softly, “You’re right.”

 

~*~

 

“So? Is it really him?” Sheriff Hudson asked, staring across the table at Sharon Denborough as she set the bones of Victor Criss down on the table. She frowned to herself, pressing her palms against the cool steel of the metal table and sighed.

“Well, it’s hard to be sure, but I believe so. We can’t tell because of teeth records, no one’s found his head yet. And the fingerprints have been burned off from the explosion. But there is a fracture that’s been healed here,” she pointed to an arm bone, “that’s similar to what would happen if you were shoved a little too hard into maybe a desk or a chair, which Victor came in for about three years ago. I assume it was trouble at home. Anyway, like I said, it’s hard to be sure, but I think it’s him.”

 

~*~

 

Bill grabbed two more cupcakes, putting them up in the display before moving to grab more and doing it again. He was setting up the cafe today, since it was just after lunch rush hour and everything was pretty much gone. It was his first day back in almost a week, and while most people would have hated it, Bill felt grateful for the distraction that work gave him. For once, he was able to forget about Audra’s death and Stan being hospitalized. In fact, Stan was getting released today, which all of the Losers had pretty much agreed would be a big help to Bill getting over Audra’s death. They were the reason that he was at work in the first place, they had gotten him to take a shower and get dressed and do something productive.

Eddie had come along with Bill, sitting at one of the tables and pretty much just typing a school essay on his computer in the corner, but Bill was grateful either way. If things got too stressful he would go sit by Eddie for a little bit and talk to him until he felt he was calm enough to go back to work. His manager understood- and he didn’t mind in the slightest, which Bill was grateful for as he went back and forth between Eddie and the job.

His phone chimed, and absentmindedly Bill just turned it off, since they weren’t allowed to have phones at work. It was his manager’s rule, and since he was already only working half the time he was actually here, he decided it was best not to push his luck. But when he heard Eddie suck in a sharp breath, he looked up with a frown. “Wh-what’s wrong?” He called over, since Eddie was only a table or two away from him and he wasn’t really disturbing anybody.

“I think you might wanna look at this,” Eddie said, voice coming out choked, and Bill knew it was serious when he reached for his inhaler and took two breaths on it, tears of slight panic in his gaze. “I um- I have to call R-Richie,” Eddie said, stumbling over Richie’s name. He turned the screen away from everybody else in the cafe so they couldn’t see, and Bill came over to look, trying not to think about how Eddie hasn’t used his inhaler in two years until just now. The shorter boy pulled out his phone and dialed Richie’s number, stepping outside and holding onto his inhaler for dear life.

Bill sat down where Eddie had been sitting, and he felt his heart plummet in his chest as he stared at the computer screen. Across the top, it said

_**DERRY’S LOSERS ARE GETTING MURDERED!** _

_**VOTE FOR WHO YOU’D RATHER SEE ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK** _

_**RICHIE TOZIER (67%)** _

_**EDDIE KASPBRAK (3%)** _

_**BILL DENBROUGH (1%)** _

_**STANLEY URIS (3%)** _

_**MIKE HANLON (6%)** _

_**BEN HANSCOM (6%)** _

_**BEVERLY MARSH (14%)** _

By each of their names there was a picture of them, taken what looked like the day before, without any of their knowledge. Then, on the bottom, it had places for people to press the boxes for their vote.

_**VOTE RICHIE! VOTE EDDIE! VOTE BILL! VOTE STANLEY! VOTE MIKE! VOTE BEN! VOTE BEVERLY!** _

Bill felt sick to his stomach, suddenly understanding why Eddie had been so panicked about calling Richie. He dialed Stan’s number, holding it up to his ear and waiting as patiently as he could force himself to be. After the second ring, Stan picked up, sounding tired. _“Bill?”_

“H-have you seen-?”

 _“Yes,”_ Stan cut him off, voice so quiet that Bill almost missed it. _“I got it just a second ago. Are you okay?”_

“Me?” Bill asked, surprised, and heard Stan’s hum of agreement.

_“Yeah, you. Are you okay?”_

_“Y-You’ve been h-h-hospitalized, R-Richie’s name is th-the most v-v-voted on, and I’m the l-least voted on, and you ask i-if I’m okay.” God I love him,_ he thought without even realizing it. _“Yeah, I’m f-f-fine.”_ He murmured.

 _“Good. I’m getting out of the hospital in about half an hour, okay? I’ll meet you at work and the others can meet us there, too. We can all talk about it.”_ He said, voice sounding authoritative, and then it softened slightly. _“Bill?”_

“Y-yeah?” He asked, looking outside through the windows at Eddie, who was smiling fondly into the phone in spite of everything that had just happened.

 _“It’s gonna be okay,”_ Stan murmured.

 

~*~

 

“Please answer,” Eddie murmured over and over again to himself as the phone rang and rang and rang, but Richie didn’t pick up, and he gripped his inhaler so tight that he was worried that he was gonna break it.

 _“Hey! You’ve reached Richie. I’m busy doing your mom, but don’t worry, I’m free tonight just for you.”_ Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie’s voicemail. _“Leave a message after the-”_ there was the pluck of a guitar string, and then the beep that showed you can leave a message.

“Richie, you idiot, answer the goddamn phone.” Eddie snapped, though it was mostly just out of nerves than anything. He hung up and then called again, and this time, Richie answered on the fourth ring. Eddie felt relief flood through him, but he snapped, “What the hell, Rich? You scared me half to death.”

 _“Awww, were you worried about me, Spaghetti Man?”_ Eddie could hear the grin in his voice, and stopped himself from getting into his car and driving all the way to Richie’s place to slap that grin off his face.

He settled for gritting his teeth and forcing out, “Don’t call me that. Have you seen the… poll?” His voice went from mad to timid, trying not to think of the poll. He knew a lot of people didn’t like Richie, but hadn’t thought that they hated him enough to vote that he be killed. He also wondered why the website hadn’t been investigated and taken down yet, but that was kind of the thing about Derry. No one cared unless it was their job to, and even if it was their job, they didn’t do it very well.

 _“Yeah, I saw it.”_ Richie said dismissively, and Eddie was positive that if he had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have heard the uneasiness underneath the carefree tone. _“It’s probably just some dick heads pulling a prank and trying to scare us. Victor’s dead, remember? Problem solved.”_

“I don’t… I don’t think that all of this was really Victor, Rich. And I know you don’t think it was Victor, either.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and then he heard Richie sigh softly. _“No, I don’t think it was Victor. But it would be a hell of a lot easier if it was, you know?”_ Eddie sat down on the bench outside, giving a small hum of agreement. _“What do you think we should do?”_

“I think we should all get together and talk about it. Will you come over here? As soon as possible, preferably? Bill and I are at the cafe.”

 _“Of course, Eds, I’ll be fine. I’ve got you to protect me, right?”_ Richie joked, and Eddie gave a small laugh, smiling fondly.

“Yeah, right. If anyone tries to come for you, I’ll definitely kick their ass.”

 _“I know you will.”_ He could practically hear the grin in Richie’s voice again, but this time, he didn’t feel like smacking it off.

“Whatever, Trashmouth. Just get here soon, yeah?”

 _“Of course, Eddie Spaghetti,”_ Richie teased, and Eddie rolled his eyes as he hung up, taking a deep breath before shoving his inhaler into his pocket again and walking back inside.

“So?” He asked Bill, who was still staring at the poll. He glanced over as Eddie moved to stand by him, and shrugged.

“Stan s-s-said th-that as soon as h-he gets r-reh-released he’ll come h-here, and I’ve called the o-others and told th-them to m-muh-meet us h-here.” Bill responded, gaze on Eddie’s laptop.

“Okay. Richie’s coming too, he should be here soon. Hopefully Bev can help us try and track the address, she’s pretty good with stuff like that.” Eddie said, and Bill nodded in agreement. Eddie sat down across from him, chewing on his lip nervously. “Now what?”

“Now we w-wah-wait.”

 

~*~

 

“What are we gonna do?” Ben asked, and no one responded, unsure. Bev was typing away at the computer, trying to track the address of whoever had sent the link while at the same time trying to take down the website that had the poll.

Richie was close by Eddie, like always, and they were talking to each other in quiet tones. Eddie looked worried, and Richie just looked dismissive, like he didn’t have a thing in the world that he needed to be concerned about. Because of the results of the poll, Ben figured that was definitely far from the truth. Recently, Richie’s had gone down to 65%, but it was still so, so much more than anyone else’s, and he knew that’s what Eddie was talking to Richie about. Eddie looked like he was getting more and more frustrated with the fact that Richie didn’t seem to care.

“Whoever put up the website is good with computers,” Bev said, not taking her eyes away from the screen as she typed almost lazily. Her fingers were moving so fast over the keys that they were a blur, and Ben watched her in a sort of fascination. “The website is well protected, and it’ll take a couple of minutes, but I can get it down.” She continued, and then was quiet for a second as she focused  on something, typing rapidly. After a minute of silence, she kept going. “The address is untraceable, so I have no clue who put it up. But this definitely wasn’t a teenager, and it definitely wasn’t someone as stupid as Victor, even if he somehow was still alive.”

“So, in short,” Stan said grimly, “The murderer is still out there.”

“They probably killed Victor and set up that car crash,” Mike said. “That would make it easier for them to get away with what they’re doing, because the whole town wants to believe that it’s Victor.”

“Great,” Richie interjected dryly, and Eddie looked irritated, though without any real heat behind the glares he was sending Richie. “We have better theories than the people who actually have the materials to _do_ something about it.”

“So what are _we_ going to do? How do we warn the town it’s not over without sounding like, oh, I don’t know, _we’re_ the ones committing the murders?” Ben asked, frowning. Richie shrugged.

“They already think I’m insane and a faggot. If I say anything about it they’ll probably throw me in jail without any questions asked.” Richie muttered, and Eddie glanced at him sharply, but didn’t say anything.

“I say we let them figure it out by themselves. They’re still investigating Ash’s murder, or so they say. They’ll figure out something’s not right, and they’ll figure out that Victor wasn’t the one that killed Greta and Audra.” At Audra’s name, Bill fought a grimace again, and Ben saw Stan rest his arm gently on Bill’s shoulder for a brief second. “Everything will be fine.” She said, but she sounded uncertain. She hit a few more keys on the computer before shutting it. “Okay. I took the website down, but like I said, the address is untraceable.”

Ben nodded quietly, turning back to the others.

“I say we go with the police,” Eddie piped up from the back.

“Yeah, b-because they d-d-did _so well_ l-last t-tuh-time.” Bill said, voice harsh. Everyone looked at him in surprise, and even he looked startled by his hostility towards the idea. “Sorry, E-Eddie,” Bill added, voice going gentle again. “I-I didn’t mean t-to snap, I j-just…”

“It’s alright, Bill, I understand,” Eddie gave a small smile, and Bill nodded quietly.

“Okay.” Mike said, glancing around at them. “Let’s take a vote, then. Who says police?”

No one raised their hands, though Eddie looked slightly reluctant, like he still wanted the officials to handle it instead of putting themselves in trouble. Ben smiled slightly to himself as Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand under the table and squeezed it gently, thumb skimming over the back of his hand gently in a reassuring manner. He doubted that Richie and Eddie knew all of the other Losers knew they were together, but they weren’t being very subtle about it. The looks that they gave each other, even when bickering, gave it away, along with the constant touching- arms brushing, hands lingering when handing each other something, everything.

“Okay, and everyone for figuring it out ourselves?” At this, everybody raised their hands, though Eddie’s was once again hesitant, and Ben found his own hand pausing for a brief moment before he raised it.

“Okay then,” Mike said, leaning back into the chair. “Looks like we’re on our own.”


	15. The Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill talks with Nancy. Some cute Reddie fluff is in here, too. Bill gets something in the mail, and goes to Beverly for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry I couldn't update yesterday. My sister went to the ER last night, and was there until 2 PM today. And besides that, it's just been a very busy day, so I apologize. Everyone is okay now, and I wasn't hurt, I just didn't have time to write another chapter and update until now. Also, I wasn't really feeling well today, so sorry if the wording is a little off and stuff, but I think I fixed all of the mistakes and stuff. Anyway, tomorrow everything will be back to normal, I promise.

Bill looked up from wiping off counters as Nancy Wheeler walked into the cafe. It was a few hours after everything that had happened, and most of the Losers had gone home, but Stan had stayed to wait for Bill’s shift to be over. Nancy walked over to him, sitting at the counter that he was currently wiping down. Bill paused for a moment, leaning against the counter as she smiled kindly at him from the opposite side. “Th-thank you f-f-for wh-what you said a-ah-about A-A-Ah-Audra,” Bill said quietly, and then like he was afraid she didn’t know what he meant, he added, “On y-your podcast.”

She nodded gently, pushing her hair behind her ear as she nodded sympathetically. “I can’t imagine what you guys are going through.”

“Y-You don’t w-wuh-want to,” he responded softly. He pulled away from the counter and leaned back, grabbing a coffee cup. “Th-The usual?”

“No, actually.” She sounded amused at the surprised expression on his face. “Double shot, to go, please.” As Bill started to make the drink, she kept talking. “So, I heard that the PTB is trying to pin the blame on the Sheriff.”

“I-I hope not. I m-muh-mean, it’s not his f-fault.”

“No, of course not,” Nancy said dismissively. “It’s Victor’s fault.” As if sensing Bill’s unease, she leaned in and lowered her voice so no one would overhear. “‘Derry Slasher Dead’? I mean, that’s what sells newspapers, right?”

“You d-don’t think i-it’s true?” Bill asked her, and she bit her lip, like she was contemplating whether or not to tell him.

Finally, she said, “I think that people need it to be Victor. And I also think that your Sheriff is not the only person that’s going to be the scapegoat here.” She said, and Bill put the lid on her coffee cup, handing it to her as she got up like the conversation was done. He wanted to tell her to sit down and tell him more about why she thought that it wasn’t Victor. But instead he just watched as she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, putting down money for the coffee and walking out with a simple, “See you later.”

 

~*~

 

Richie lay with his legs entangled with Eddie’s on his bed, fingers tracing along Eddie’s side where a small portion was exposed, where his shirt had ridden up slightly. They had been there like that for at least an hour now, just talking to each other. Occasionally, if they went to the topic of the murders, Richie could literally feel Eddie’s chest start to tighten, and hear his breathing start to get shorter. So he would wrap his arms a little tighter around the smaller teen and pull him a little closer, murmuring soothing words in his ear until Eddie would relax and mutter, “Thanks, Rich,” so softly that Richie would almost miss it.

These moments were what Richie lived for. When it was just him and Eddie, and no pretenses were needed. It was a bummer that he couldn’t take him out and show him off, kiss or hold his hand in public or anything that he wanted to do, but he completely understood that Eddie wasn’t ready. And he wasn’t going to push him to be, either, because he knew with someone like Sonia Kaspbrak as a mother, coming out as gay wouldn’t be easy for him. She already thought he had enough diseases (all of which were non-existent) and she didn’t need to tell him shitty things like being gay is something that he needed to be cured of as well.

But he didn’t want to spoil moments of right now with thoughts of her, so he pushed those thoughts away and settled instead for thinking of how beautiful that Eddie looked right now, half asleep and with a content smile on his face. His brown hair was a mess from Richie’s fingers running through it many times as they kissed, long eyelashes brushing gently over his cheeks and then coming up to frame his brow bone slightly every time he blinked sleepily. The little freckles across his nose and face were literally the cutest things that Richie had ever seen in his life, and he loved to count them. When he had told Eddie this fact, he had blushed and looked away and mumbled something along the lines of, “That’s so cheesy.” But Richie could tell that he secretly liked it.

Another thing Richie knew that he liked is when Richie told him the things that made him beautiful. How he didn’t need to change, not for anyone, because he is _so perfect_ that it’s _frustrating_. How did Richie get that lucky?

Eddie also loved to nestle into Richie’s chest late at night, and god, Richie wouldn’t give those moments up for the world. It was one of the few times in a day where Richie would be quiet, letting himself think, and Eddie would usually fall asleep there. Other times, all Richie would do is talk, and Eddie would listen until he fell asleep. Sometimes it was vice versa, if Eddie had something important on his mind, but most times he preferred to listen and Richie was fine with that.

“Rich?” Eddie mumbled sleepily, and Richie pulled himself out of his thoughts, looking over at him.

“Mmm?”

“I think we can tell the others about… about us. I don’t think they would care. I mean, in school and stuff we’d still have to be secret, but… but I think we can tell them.” Eddie said, still half asleep. Richie smiled slightly, kissing Eddie’s temple.

“Okay, Eds, we can tell them tomorrow, yeah?”

Instead of grumbling “Don’t call me that” like Richie expected him to, Eddie smiled faintly and nodded, shutting his eyes. After a minute or two, Richie felt his breathing slow, and he knew that Eddie was asleep. He felt himself relax too, and allowed himself to drift off peacefully.

 

~*~

 

Bill opened the mailbox, taking the mail out of it as he walked up the driveway to his house. He also stooped down to pick up the package as he unlocked the front door, sifting through the mail and then setting it down before taking a closer look at the package. It was for him, in neat, slanted handwriting. It was about as big as a textbook, but was really then, like it didn’t even surpass 75 pages.

He set the rest of the mail, mostly for his parents, on the kitchen counter and went up the stairs to his room. He flicked on the light and then shut his door, sitting down on his bed. Bill opened up the package quietly, sliding what looked like a yearbook from 1994. On the cover inside there was a dedication page, and Bill scanned through the list of victims absentmindedly before continuing to flip the page. He wondered who the hell would send him a yearbook, especially one from 1994, before he remembered everything that had happened that day- including the list- and dread filled his stomach.

He flipped the pages until he got to the people, gaze skimming over them until he found what he was looking for- one of the survivors, Dara Aldean. Her face was cut out, and as he flipped the pages and looked at the other survivors, he could see that their faces were cut out, too. He skipped through the rest of them, not really caring about the rest of the class of ‘94, until he came across his dad’s picture- or rather, lack thereof. His dad’s face was scratched out with black pen messily, and whoever had done it had pressed so hard that the pen had nearly torn through the paper with force. Above it in red marker were the words

 

THE TRUTH LIES WHERE THE MASK WAS MADE.

 

~*~

 

Bev gave a small laugh, talking with Ben on the phone and smiling to herself. Her red hair was a mess, but she really didn’t care that much, since it was late at night and it wasn’t like anyone was gonna see her, anyway. Her dad was passed out on the couch, she knew, because it was almost 10:30 and he would have fell asleep drinking and watching the 10 o’clock news, like he did every night. Usually at this point, Bev would sneak out and go do something fun, but today that fun consisted of calling Ben and just talking. They hadn’t even been talking for 10 minutes, though, when a small knock came from her window. She looked up, and squinted, but she couldn’t see outside. She assumed it was Richie, though, because he was always the one that came to her bedroom in the night if something was going on.

“Hey, I gotta go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She smiled as Ben said goodbye and then hung up, putting her phone down and opening up the window without pausing to see who was outside and to check if it was actually Richie or not. To her surprise, instead of Richie ducking through her window, it was Bill. He swore slightly as the top of his head hit the window pane, and Bev grimaced in sympathy. “Bill? What’re you doing here?”

“I-I got this i-in the m-muh-mail.” Bill said, setting down what looked like a yearbook from 1994 on her bed. It had a red cover with white swirl patterns on it, and it said DERRY HIGH SCHOOL on it in big, white letters. Underneath, it said CLASS OF ‘94. Beverly studied in for a minute, confused. “I-I think th-the killer i-is trying t-to send me a m-muh-message,” he explained quietly. She frowned.

“A yearbook?” She said skeptically. Bill started flipping through the pages as she talked. “That’s not so weird.”

“Y-yeah, b-b-but look.” Bill said, and he opened it up to the page where his father would be. Bev could see that his face was scribbled out so much that you couldn’t even see the backdrop, and it bright red sharpie across the top, it said THE TRUTH LIES WHERE THE MASK WAS MADE.

“Holy shit,” she said excitedly, and Bill stared at her, perplexed at how she could find this exciting instead of terrifying. Bev turned the pages rapidly, like Bill had when he had first found the yearbook, turning to each of the survivors one by one. Each one was cut out, and Bill could see her get more and more excited as she saw this. “All of the survivors. They’re gone.”

“Y-yeah. And my d-d-dad’s face is sc-scratched out.” Bill said grimly, and Bev nodded.

“Okay, let’s pause for a sec. Richie’s gonna wanna hear about this too.” She picked up her phone, dialing Richie but getting no answer after a few minutes. She took the phone away from her ear, clicking on Richie’s contact to text him.

_Bev: i know ur probably making out w eddie rn but answer ur phone its important_

**_Trashmouth: he wishes_ **

_Bev: is he w u??_

**_Trashmouth: ye but he’s asleep… what do u want??_ **

_Bev: i’ll give u a hint… it involves brandon james & bill. and eddie can listen 2 if he wants. just hurry tf up _

A minute later, a notification popped up. **_Trashmouth would like facetime…_ ** Bev hit accept, and a minute later Richie appeared on the screen with a half asleep Eddie peering over his shoulder, looking slightly irritated by the fact that he’d been woken up.

“The fuck do you want, Bev, I was asleep,” Eddie grumbled, and Bev chuckled, putting her phone up on the space where the bed met the wall so that Richie and Eddie could see both Bev and Bill.

“Look what Bill got in the mail today,” Bev said, holding up the yearbook, and Richie slid on his glasses and squinted into the phone.

“Is that a yearbook?” Richie asked.

“You woke me up for yearbook?” Eddie grumbled, and Beverly rolled her eyes.

“It’s a yearbook from 1994, dumbass. The year that Brandon James killed those people?” She asked, and she could see Richie’s eyes light up through the phone. Bill still didn’t understand how either of them saw this as exciting. “Okay. So the thing is, though, it’s not just any yearbook. Obviously, or I wouldn’t be showing you. This one has all of the survivor’s faces cut out. And Bill’s dad is scratched out, too. And look what it says above him.”

She held it up to the phone screen so that they could see it better, and she saw Richie mouth the words, “The truth lies where the mask was made” to himself as he read it. Then he said out loud, “What the hell?”

“I mean, Victor could have sent it,” Eddie said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up a little more. “And it could have gotten delayed in the mail or something. But…” he hesitated, and then continued, albeit a little unwillingly. “It seems a little analog for a killer who’s been using social media and cell cloning.”

“W-well I mean, h-he is taking m-muh-me to the p-past. But b-besides that, wh-what the hell i-is this s-supposed to mean?” He pointed to the red, scrawled writing, and Richie frowned.

“Well, the mask that Brandon James wore was actually a surgical mask, you know. Some say that it was all that held his face togethe-”

“Richie.” Bev interrupted, sending him a pointed look to tell him to get to the point. Behind him, Eddie was making a face, looking thoroughly disgusted about what Richie had been about to say.

“Okay, okay. The mask was used to protect his sutures from infection.” Richie explained, leaning back.

“S-So who made i-it?” Bill asked, and Richie shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Richie responded, and she heard Eddie mutter a faint ‘That’s helpful.’

“I mean, Brandon’s surgeries were done out at Derry hospital, out on the turnpike, but it closed down like, six or seven years ago.”

No one said anything for a minute, and then it seemed like Richie couldn’t help himself. “ _Please_ tell me we’re going there.”

“No, no. We’re not going anywhere.” Eddie said, frowning deeply. Richie turned to him, a whine of complaint in his voice.

“But it’s a great lead!”

“No!” Eddie said, smacking Richie’s arm as if hoping that would get some sense into him. “It could be a trap.”

“I think Richie r-right-” Bill started, and Eddie shot him a sour look. “Fine, f-fine. Take it t-to the Sh-Sheriff. Y-yeah, go be l-law abiding and… wh-whatever.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Bev thought she saw the same thought go through all of their minds- Audra.

“Bill-” Eddie started, gaze apologetic, but Bill leaned forward and pressed the end call button, scowling slightly.

“Look, I-I’m gonna g-go. Th-this was st-stupid.” Bill said, shutting the yearbook and moving to the window. Beverly looked bewildered, like she didn’t understand how all of that happened so fast.

“Bill, just wait a second.” She said, reaching out and grabbing his hand, pulling him away from the window. Bill turned back to face her, and something in his face gave it away- she knew he wasn’t just going to let this go. “You’re going into that hospital alone, aren’t you?” She said slowly, and Bill frowned, looking down.

“I j-just… I keep th-thinking about wh-what everyone keeps s-suh-saying, and… you know, if V-Victor is actually b-buh-behind this, then he’s d-dead. He’s n-n-not th-there to a-ambush me, and this isn’t a tr-trap.”

“And you get your answer.” Beverly finished for him, nodding slightly to herself. “And if isn’t him?” At this, Bill shrugged, like he genuinely didn’t know what he’d do. “Then we go together.” Bev said firmly, and Bill knew that there was no arguing with her about it. “Prepared.”

Bill nodded again, and after a minute he murmured, “Okay,” softly. “Sh-should we take R-Richie?”

“Oh god no. He’d be like a four year old at Disneyland. And Eddie would come with him and probably freak out. I love them, but I really don’t think that they should be there.”

“Okay,” Bill agreed, and stood up, grabbing his stuff.

“Great. Let’s go.”

“N-Now?” Bill asked, looking startled, and Bev nodded.

“My dad’s asleep, and will be until tomorrow. Now is the best time to go.” She said, and Bill hesitated before nodding and ducking out of the window, grabbing the yearbook to take with him. Bev followed him, shutting the window behind her with a soft thud.


	16. The Abandoned Hospital Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Beverly go to the abandoned hospital and learn some new things about Brandon James. While there, they encounter someone and something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was a little two long so I had to split it into two. Also, I went back and proofread everything from the past couple chapters, from 9 all the way up to 14 last night. Some of those mistakes I made were so bad that I actually cringed while fixing them. And once I accidentally slipped up on one of the names and put in the name from the TV show, so sorry about that if you got confused (I think it was in like, 11 or something? Maybe 12?) But anyway, I fixed it, so everything should be good now.

Driving into the abandoned hospital’s parking lot was creepy enough. Thick weeds had cracked the concrete over time and now grew in between it, and in a lot of places around the edges of the lot, the concrete was crumbling away and grass was growing in it instead, like mother nature was taking her land back slowly. The fence that surrounded the whole hospital was rusted and in some places broken, clipped with wire cutters so that kids with cans of spray paint could wiggle their way through and make the old, yellow-white aged walls colorful with words and pictures. The grass grew high and wild, having gone uncut for at least six years, and off to one side of the lawn it looked like a tree had been struck by lightning.

The hospital itself wasn’t too bad looking, if you ignored all of the graffiti that covered the walls. Some of the windows were broken, but most were intact, which was a good sign considering it was a small town and destroying things was one way to pass the time for a lot of kids. The hospital should have been the first target. Instead, though, most things were intact and still working, but covered with a layer of grime. Vines grew up the sides of the walls, covering windows or doors from view. A big ADMISSIONS sign hung over one of the entrances, and considering everything else looked mostly boarded up or covered, Bill assumed that that was where he was supposed to go in. The darkness of the night made every shadow seem to leer at him, forming twisting shapes that Bill’s brain automatically took for human. Street lights along the parking lot cast an eerie sort of glow on the building, and every survival instinct in Bill was screaming at him to go the other way, get in his car, drive home and forget about the yearbook, about the theories, about everything.

He was getting pretty good at ignoring that feeling.

He got out of the car, shutting the door behind him. On his other side, Bev did the same, looking at everything with a strange sort of wonder, like she was secretly enjoying this. To be honest, it did look pretty cool, but he was more freaked out than anything by it. Beverly went to the back of the car, and there were a couple thunks as she retrieved what they had brought with them. They had dropped by Bill’s house first before coming here so that they could get supplies, and since no one had been home, it had been easy enough to get everything and go within five minutes. They both had flashlights, Bill’s a huge red one that was smooth and cold from sitting unused. Bev’s was a medium-sized silver one, with a black grip on it. The next thing that they had was a baseball bat and a long, thick pipe. Bill held the baseball bat tightly with one hand, the flashlight in his other, and Bev took the pipe out before shutting the trunk of the car.

“S-So, what d-do you th-think?” Bill said quietly, almost feeling wrong to be talking when it seem so peaceful out here. Beverly nodded slowly behind him, eyes on the hospital.

“Second thoughts are setting in.”

Bill hesitated, quiet for a minute. Then he said, “L-Look, this guy k-killed A-A-Ah-Audra at her house, a-a-and Greta a-at hers. A-And I kn-know for a f-fact he w-was outside m-mine the other n-night. If he wanted t-to kill m-muh-me, he’s h-had plenty of ch-chances to do s-so.” Bev wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

She turned to face him, raising a single eyebrow. “That is very sketchy logic.” Then after a minute, she shrugged and turned back toward the hospital. “Let’s go.”

Walking up to the ADMISSIONS door, Bill could see that he had been wrong about the door not being boarded up. The boards were rotting, though, and with a few tugs from both Bev and Bill, they gave way pretty easily. He kicked them aside and they both stared into the darkness of the hallway, unsure what to do now. After a second, Beverly said with a joking tone, “Age before beauty.”

Bill gave a small chuckle and rolled his eyes, and some of the tension disappeared from the air. “Thanks, Bev,” he said dryly, and stepped forward through the door. Immediately, they both tensed, as if expecting someone to jump out and yell, “Boo!” Instead, silence filled the hallways, only broken by their breathing, and after a minute, Bev ducked in after Bill. They walked down the quiet hallway in silence, footsteps echoing very softly as they walked. Their flashlight beams swept over everything that was in the hallway, on the ground, ceiling, wall, whatever. Bill wasn’t taking any chances for someone to try and jump out at them, and obviously Bev wasn’t, either.

For a couple minutes they just walked, flashlights sweeping over everything in their path until the narrow hallway opened up into what looked like the hospital’s cafe area. Tables and chairs sat abandoned in the room, and on the other side of the hallway, Bill saw that it split off again into another, bigger room. Beside him, he heard Beverly murmur breathlessly, “This place is _huge.”_

“Not as huge as my wang, though,” A voice said from behind them, and they both whirled around, baseball bat and pipe at the ready. A foot away from them stood Richie Tozier, a grin on his face as he waved at them. “Wow, coming here without me? I’m hurt, truly.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “What’re you doing here, Tozier?”

“Aw, come on. You didn’t think I would figure out what you guys were doing. There’s no way you would just give up a huge lead like this,” Richie said, pointing at Bev, and then he moved the accusing finger to Bill. “And you wouldn’t just give up something that could tell you why all of this has been happening to you. I put the pieces together, and bada bing bada boom, I’m here.”

“I-Is Eddie w-with you?”

“Hell no. He would strangle me if he knew that I was here.” Richie said, shrugging. “I just waited for him to fall asleep again, and then I left. He’ll be fine.”

“He’ll also be pissed when he finds out,” Bev countered, but Richie just shrugged again.

“Wh-whatever,it’s n-not like he’s g-gonna leave n-now,” Bill said to Bev, and then turned to Richie. “W-Wanna help?” He asked, and another grin lit up Richie’s face.

“Obviously! Who doesn’t love running around in abandoned hospitals with a possible murderer?”

Both Bill and Bev rolled their eyes this time, and started looking around at everything. After a minute or two of examining everything, Richie’s voice broke the silence again. “You know, if Victor did send you that yearbook, we’re following a dead man’s trail.”

“Or a-a live man’s tr-trap,” Bill countered, and Bev turned.

“Who’s to say a woman couldn’t torture and kill just as well as a man?” She said, hands on her hips. Bill turned away to examine the tables, all neat and cleaned off with every chair pushed in… except one.

“W-Well, it was a m-muh-man’s voice that c-called me.” He said, pushing the chair in slowly. It screeched slightly against the ground, and he pulled away immediately, wincing.

 _“A voice like this?”_ Said the familiar, gruff, scratchy voice that Bill had heard many times over the phone. He whirled around with a gasp, baseball bat high in the air, only to find Bev watching him. “$1.99 voice-changer app.” She said as an explanation, and for a brief moment, Bill looked like he was going to hit her anyway.

“D-Don’t _do_ that,” he snapped, and she raised her hands as if in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just saying, it could be anybody.” Beverly said, turning her phone back off and slipping it into her pocket.

Bill opened his mouth to say something, but Richie got there first. “Guys?” He said weakly, staring at something just around the corner, and Bill felt dread fill his stomach again. He and Beverly exchanged glances before they both ran over to Richie, looking to see what was going on. On the tiled floor was a huge streak of blood, leading down the hallway and around the corner like somebody had dragged a heavily bleeding body down this hallway. It was so big that Bill didn’t know how they had missed it at first.

“Well this can’t be good,” Bev said quietly, and Richie nodded in agreement. Bill took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, trying not to look as scared as he felt.

“It k-keeps going. C-C’mon.” He said, and started to walk down the hallway, being careful to avoid the blood. It looked old, dried enough that it looked brown for the most part, but occasionally there were larger pools that were a dark red. Bill wondered whose blood it was, and then decided he didn’t want to know. Beverly and Richie followed him slowly- faintly, Bill heard the sound of Richie’s video recorder turning on, but he didn’t pay much attention to it, figuring it’d be better later if they were able to show the others what happened. _If we get out of here alive,_ he thought, and then immediately scolded himself. _If whoever this was wanted to kill you, they would have by now,_ he reminded himself, and kept going. He gripped the bat so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, not that he noticed or cared.

Finally, after a few more twists and turns, they came across a door. As Bill’s flashlight traveled up the door slowly, fear twisted in his gut. Right above the door handle, someone had spray painted the face with the mask. It looked rather fresh, too, and Bill couldn’t help it this time as he shrunk back slightly and murmured, “H-He’s been here.”

“What do you wanna do?” Bev asked quietly, looking over at Bill. Once again, Bill forced himself to take a deep breath and think logically about it. Whoever this was was probably just playing mind tricks on them. Everything would be fine.

“I w-wanna find th-this son of a b-bitch,” Bill said, and Richie nodded in agreement.

“Me, too,” Richie said, and together the three of them pushed the doors open. At first, they didn’t move, but then with a loud creaking sound they slowly swung open, banging slightly against the wall with momentum. There was a white curtain hanging down, separating that side of the room from the other side, and Bill noticed grimly that it had blood splattered all across the front of it. Bev used the pipe to move it aside so none of them had to touch it, and Bill ducked underneath it, Richie following him and Bev coming through last. Something definitely smelled in the room, but none of the flashlight’s beams were quite strong enough to see what it was yet. Whatever it was was all the way in the corner of the large room, and Bill could see blood spattered all around as he started to walk towards it.

As he got closer, the smell got stronger, and he covered his nose with his arm as he walked, bat at the ready. The quiet buzz of flies could be heard, and with mounting horror he realized the only thing that it could be- with the amount of blood, the stench, the flies? It had to be a body. But of who, Bill didn’t know. The three of them all stood around a large metal table, one that had probably been used for surgeries or whatever the hell went on in this room where you needed to strap someone down. There had been rumors of experiments around here, and Bill wondered faintly if maybe that was what the table had been used for. Maybe they had left a body here. But no, that didn’t seem right- this body seemed relatively fresh, like it had been killed within the last couple weeks at most. It was covered with a tarp that had splotches of blood all over it, and Richie reached out with a trembling hand. “Ready?” He asked unsteadily, and everyone nodded. Richie gave a sharp yank, and Bill doubled over with a heave almost automatically, like he was gonna be sick.

Richie gagged, turning away from what was on the table as Bev went, “Is that… Is that a _pig?”_

“Oh god, I’m never having bacon again,” Richie groaned, taking multiple steps away from it. Now that the tarp was gone, the stench was overpowering, and all three of them covered their noses, eyes watering. Slowly, Bill got back up, coughing and making his way over to it slowly.

“The fuck are you doing?” Richie asked, staring at Bill like he was crazy. His voice was muffled behind his sleeve.

“Th-there’s no heart,” Bill said for an answer, and Bev scoffed.

“Yeah, there’s no head, either.”

“N-No, I mean… My m-mom got a h-heart in the m-muh-mail.” Bill explained, looking at it closely. Richie was so pale that Bev was starting to worry that he’d faint. “Th-This must be wh-where it’s from.”

“Lovely,” Bev said sourly. “Now help me find a light.” She made her way over to the wall and, Bill noticed, as far away from the dead pig as she could get. There was a pause as she shuffled around, and then a faint click, and Bill squinted as bright fluorescent lights flickered and lit up. Around on the walls, other screens lit up too, and as Bill got closer he could see what looked like x-rays and MRI scans. There were pictures of ribs, skulls, arms, everything as an x-ray and put up on the walls. He squinted at them as his eyes adjusted slowly to the light. From across the room, he heard Richie gasp in surprise.

“This… all of this is Brandon James.” Richie said, holding up the video camera to make sure it was recording all of this.

“This must be where they tried to fix him,” Bev realized, looking back over at the metal table with the pig, and then away again quickly.

“G-Guys, over h-here,” Bill called, waving them over into what looked like another, smaller room connected to this one, only separated by another plastic curtain. Bill ducked through it, moving the curtain open all the way so that the light from the first room flooded into this one and they didn’t need to use to their flashlights. In the corner of the room there were multiple chairs, and there were counters attached to the wall to the right. On it, there were what looked like bacterial liquids and different medicinal fluids, stowed away in giant glass jars and left here when the hospital was abandoned. Also on the counter was a red clipboard, so much paper attached to the front that when Bill tried to unclip it, they all spilled to the ground. Richi reached down, picking some of them up and examining them.

“It looks like the masks were custom-made for Brandon’s face after each one of the surgeries.” Richie said, picking up the rest of the scattered papers and looking through them.

“Y-You mean th-there’s more th-than o-one?” Bill said, blue eyes wide. Richie nodded grimly, and Bill muttered, “F-Fabulous.”

A clattering on the other side of the curtain made all of them freeze, staring at each other for a minute before ducking behind the counters. Richie pulled what looked like a taser from his jacket pocket, and Bill stared at him in astonishment. “What?” Richie whispered defensively. “You think I’m gonna come in here unprotected like an idiot?”

Bill just shook his head and held a finger up to his lips- the sound of footsteps grew closer and closer, and Bill could see a person’s shadow approaching. Bill made a movement with his hands to tell Richie to taze whoever it was on the count of three. After a couple seconds, Richie nodded wordlessly, and Bill moved so that he was crouching better and could get up fast. He held up three slim fingers, and then slowly made it two. And then one.


	17. The Abandoned Hospital pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So tomorrow is gonna be something different, there'll only be one post, in the morning, and it's gonna be short. Sorry :(

Richie lunged forward, taser at the ready, and the figure narrowly avoided it as they fell to the side with a surprised yelp, and then a groan of pain. Richie paused, frowning- that sounded familiar- and then his eyes widened.  _ “Eddie?” _

“Were you about to fucking taze me?” Eddie asked indignantly, staring up at Richie from the floor. Richie gave a sheepish shrug, taking a step away from him with embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Eddie Spaghetti.” He offered a hand to help him up, and Eddie took it, allowing himself to get pulled to his feet. “We thought you were the murderer.” 

“What are you doing here?” Bev asked, and Eddie glared at Richie. 

“Does that really require an explanation? I wake up and my boy- best friend’s gone-” he seemed momentarily flustered, and Richie knew exactly why. He couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face as Eddie almost slipped up and called Richie his boyfriend. “-right after you two called us with new information on the case? I knew he’d be with you two, doing something that’s probably- no, scratch that, definitely illegal, and did you  _ see  _ the rust on some of that stuff? It’d be easy as hell to get tetanus, not to mention that… that  _ thing-”  _ Eddie said as he pointed to the pig, and though his face paled noticeably even at the mere mention of it, he was more calm than Bill thought he would be. “So I came too. Thanks for just leaving, by the way,” he said sourly to Richie, and Richie just shrugged. “You know, if you guys really wanted to go that bad, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Sorry, Eds,” Richie said again, and Eddie grumbled, “Don’t call me that.”

“Guys, it doesn’t matter,” Bev said. “We’ve got bigger problems, remember?” She gestured to the room behind them, and Eddie squinted at all of the stuff, not wanting to get any closer. 

“It’s like a real life lair,” Eddie observed, and Bill frowned. 

“Th-those things are r-ruh-real?”

“Please don’t get him started-” Bev said, but it was too late.

“A lair is an extension of the killer’s psychosis,” Richie started, looking around and examining everything a little bit more closely now. After a moment, he went back to the clipboard about Brandon’s masks. “You know, like the root cellar in _ Psycho _ , Keller Spacey’s apartment in  _ Seven,  _ Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen, I mean, like, every fictional killer has one.”

“So, wh-what? He’s been l-luh-living here?” Bill asked, and after a minute, Richie shook his head.

“I highly doubt it. I mean, this… this looks staged. Sure, you see lairs on TV, but as cool as it would be, you don’t see them in real life. Take  _ Pretty Little Liars _ , for example. They’re always chock full of creepy little clues and unrealistic icons. I mean, seriously, how would A get her hands on four Victorian dolls that look exactly like the main characters? Where do you shop for that?” Richie made an amused noise.

“The Evil American Girl Doll store?” Bev laughed slightly, and Richie did too, even with the darkness of the situation.

“What’s back here?” Eddie said from across the room, gesturing to a storage closet door that was partially open. 

“Dunno,” Bev said, walking over to where Eddie was. “We haven’t been back there yet.” Eddie reached out and pulled the door open, flipping the light switch. There was a small  _ pop! _ as the light exploded, and Eddie flinched away from the shards before swearing slightly. He clicked his flashlight back on and walked carefully inside the room, the beam of the flashlight sweeping over everything. There was another, smaller metal table inside the room, and three small things lay on it. As Eddie crept closer, he could see what they were. 

“Is that… Greta’s?” He said, pointing to a tube of lipstick, and Bill nodded.

“I-I think s-so. And th-that’s A-Audra’s,” He said, pointing to a necklace that lay in the center. Richie swallowed hard and pointed to a key on a chain. 

“That’s Ash’s.”

“The bastard kept trophies,” Bev said slowly, and Bill nodded quietly. 

“I think we’ve got a more worrying thing at the moment,” Eddie said, staring up at something in the darkness above the metal table. Three flashlights all went up to shine on it, and Richie sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I-It’s all o-of the m-muh-missing yearb-book pictures,” Bill said, but confusion laced his tone. The shine of the flashlights prevented him from seeing exactly what was on most of the pictures, but he knew there were too many to just be the missing yearbook photos. “What e-else?”

“Bill…” Bev whispered slowly, “it’s you. Over half of those are you. And me, and Richie, and Eddie… all of us. It’s like… like we’re the stars of the show.” 

“I-I think we should go,” Eddie said, breaths coming out in short gasps. Richie nodded in agreement. 

“Good idea. The charm is kind of wearing off now,” Richie said, and all of them started to back up until Bev saw something glint in the light. She walked forward slowly, ignoring Bill’s whisper of dismay.

“Bev, wh-what are y-you doing?”

“This is Greta’s laptop,” she said, grabbing it off one of the dusty shelves. “The police have been looking for this.” 

“I bet.” Richie said grimly. “Is it alive?”

Beverly opened up the laptop and hit the power button, but to their disappointment, nothing happened. “Of course it’s not alive,” Eddie said after a moment. “It’s been here since her death, probably. We can just take it with us, and get out of here, okay?” A metal clank interrupted whatever Bev was about to respond with, and all of them shrank back into the shadows. Bev had the sense to shove the laptop into her bag, so that it looked like she hadn’t taken anything at all. “Let’s get out of here,” Eddie hissed, ducking towards the door. Something caught Richie’s eye, though, and he turned. 

“Wait a second-”

“No, Rich, we need to go-!” Eddie started, but Richie ignored him, shining his flashlight. Staring down at them from the top shelf was the Brandon James mask, propped up against something in the back.

“The mask!” Richie said, and reached up for it.

“Richie, leave it!” Bev said, smacking his arm, but Richie ignored her.

“It could have DNA on it!” He said, and went to grab it at the same time that Eddie pulled his hand down- the result was that the mask was yanked off, and something came tumbling down with it. When Bev bent over to get a closer look, she let out a scream, tumbling backwards in an attempt to get away from it. Richie shined the flashlight on it, and when Bill saw what it was, he screamed too- all of them did. It was the bloody head of Victor Criss.

Victor’s eyes were gouged out and his mouth was sewn shut. Bill dry heaved, doubling over as he tried to throw up but nothing came out. Bev grabbed his hand and Richie’s, who grabbed Eddie’s, and she yanked them all out. As if that movement snapped them back to reality, all of them started running.

“That was Victor’s  _ head!” _ Richie shouted. “There’s no way he fucking killed anybody, that was his  _ head!” _

“We gotta go, now!” Bev shouted, and they all sped up, footsteps thumping loudly through the halls. They skidded arounds sharp turns and corners, but when they saw a figure through the exit doors, they nearly fell over each other trying to get away. They scrambled down the next hallway, and screamed as a figure cloaked in shadows stood there, arms crossed over his chest. In his haste to get away, Richie crashed into Bill, sending both of them down, and Bev just barely caught onto Eddie to make sure he didn’t go down with Richie. Standing in front of them was Sheriff Hudson.

 

~*~

 

“Hey dude, what’s the 9-1-1?” Patrick asked as he got out of his truck. They were behind the school, where most of the smokers and druggies hang out, and the smell of weed and cigarette smoke hung in the air. He leaned back against his truck and waited for Henry to tell him the reason why he had called him here, impatient. 

“I got into Duke,” Henry said after a moment, holding up the acceptance letter, and Patrick nodded.

“That’s great, dude. So uh… why am I here?” Patrick said, still looking confused. Henry just frowned, leaning against Patrick’s truck as well.

“The problem is, no scholarship.” Patrick just stared at him blankly, and Henry let out an irritated sigh. “Which means I’m gonna have to pay 63 grand. Which may as well be 63 million,” Henry scoffed, kicking at the ground with his foot.

“Did you tell your dad?” Patrick asked, and Henry shook his head slowly.

“Not yet. And he’ll never cosign for student loans, so…” Henry said grimly. “That’s it. I’m never getting out of here.”

After a minute, Patrick stepped closer and lowered his voice so no one would hear, even though no one was around. “You know, if you need fast cash for tuition, there is another option.” Henry stared at him for a minute, and Patrick grinned. “We can finish what Greta and Victor started.”

“ _ Blackmail?” _ Henry hissed in irritation. “We’re finally in the clear and you wanna dive right back in?” 

“We’re  _ still _ in the clear,” Patrick reassured him, though Henry didn’t look convinced. “Trust me, this guy has no idea who we are.” 

Henry looked like he was considering it for a minute, and then reluctantly shook his head. “We don’t even have the video. It’s on Greta’s laptop.” 

Patrick looked guilty for a minute, scratching the back of his neck. “...There  _ may  _ be another copy,” he admitted.

“I knew you didn’t delete everything!” Henry said angrily, and Patrick spread his hands in a surrender. 

“This gives you another option,” Patrick reminded Henry, and gradually, Henry’s anger subsided. “Look, if the guy balks, then we walk. We get out. But if he pays…” Patrick said, leaning away, “Then hello, Duke.” Patrick watched as Henry mulled it over, thinking, and then without saying a word of agreement (or disagreement, Patrick noticed) he walked away, getting in his ratty old car and driving off.

 

~*~

 

“What were you  _ thinking?” _ Sheriff Hudson said furiously, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. None of them answered, and only Bill and Richie even looked up at him. Eddie had his head down in embarrassment and shame, and Bev was making sure to keep quiet so that the Sheriff didn’t do anything that would risk him calling her father (or checking her bag, where the laptop remained hidden). “Every single piece of evidence in that hospital is potentially inadmissible, because of you!” The Sheriff went on, and Eddie shrank further back into the chair miserably. Richie just crossed his arms over his chest, glaring up at the Sheriff.

They all sat in the Sheriff’s office, and the whole ride here the Sheriff had chewed them out about it, as if it wasn’t mortifying enough for Eddie and Bill to be riding in the backseat of a cop car. Richie had been here before (long story short, he was done taking Bowers’ shit, and had punched him in the nose so hard that he had broken it one day) and Bev honestly didn’t seem to care that much, murmuring to Richie about how she’d have a great story to tell Ben later. The police had scoured every inch of the hospital, but there was nothing else to be found besides the laptop, which Bev kept safely hidden in her bag so that they couldn’t take it away from her. Whoever was doing this hadn’t been there either, much to their disappointment.

“How did you even know we were there?” Richie asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Anonymous tip.” Sheriff Hudson said shortly. “Someone saw you guys breaking in.” 

Bev and Richie both glanced at Eddie uneasily, and Richie couldn’t help but think that maybe it was him- even if they were dating now, some of that trust that probably should be there wasn’t. And it probably wouldn’t be for a long time, if he was going to be honest. After what Eddie had done, it would take a while before Richie trusted him %100 again.

“We swept that place a week ago, looking for Victor. There was  _ nothing.” _ Sheriff Hudson snapped, glaring at all of them expectantly. None of them said anything, and he scowled. “So why were you guys there?”

There was a long moment of silence, and Richie didn’t think that anyone was going to say anything. He wondered what the Sheriff would do then, when they refused to give him answers, but decided he didn’t want to find out. Luckily, Bill seemed to have decided the same thing.

“Th-there w-wuh-was a p-package that c-came to the house. The 1994 D-Derry yearbook. Wh-whoever it is c-cut out p-people’s faces. And wr-wrote things.”

“Why didn’t you come straight here?” Sheriff Hudson said, staring at him, and Richie shifted slightly away from Bill. He could see the anger starting to build up, which was something that rarely happened with someone as passive as Bill.

“Because the last time I came here, it didn’t really end that well,” Bill snapped back, sitting up straight and staring defiantly right back at Sheriff Hudson. “Y-You wanna know wh-why I didn’t t-tell anyone? T-To try and stop m-muh-more people fr-from dying. I said I d-didn’t th-think it was V-Victor, and n-no one believed me.” 

“But you believe us now, right?” Bev said sourly, and the Sheriff’s surprised expression at Bill’s outburst melted back into his usual scowl again. 

“Well, considering his head is in that hospital and his body is the car, yeah.” He admitted, moving to sit down in his chair.

“Glad we cleared that up for you,” Richie muttered under his breath, and moved to stand up. 

“Sit down.” Sheriff Hudson said harshly, and despite himself, Richie did. “I’m gonna need your camera, Tozier.” He said, and held his hand out expectantly. Richie gripped onto his camera tighter for a minute, anger in his gaze, before handing it over slowly. As soon as it was gone, he curled his hands into fists and shoved them into his jacket pockets, not looking happy at all. “Good. Now do me a favor. Any further contact, you call me  _ immediately.”  _ The Sheriff said, and grimly, all four of them nodded. Richie knew that none of them would. “Now get out of here.” 

 

~*~

 

**_Unknown: Time for another 10k, Mr. Mayor. Will text you the GPS coordinates. 8pm tomorrow._ **

 

~*~

 

“Withholding from the police, naughty naughty,” Richie called from over the store counter, messing around with the turntables in the back. It was the next day, around 7 PM. Beverly and Ben ignored him as Bev pulled the laptop out of her messenger bag and set in on the table in front of Ben. It was after hours, so everyone was gone, and Richie had told them that they could use the store for a place to get the laptop open and examine it without anyone else seeing. Bev and Ben had agreed, and so the two of them sat there looking at the laptop while Richie attempted (unsuccessfully) to focus and clean up a little around the store. Currently, he was just making it more of a mess. 

“Okay. All of this stuff is pretty hard stuff to crack, I’m surprised that Greta was able to do such good coding,” Ben admitted as he clicked on various things. “But I should be able to get it open. The weird thing is… look.” He said, turning the laptop over to Bev to look at it.

“Why are there folders with all of our names? Richie, me, you, Bill, Mike, Stan, Eddie…” at Eddie’s name, Richie trotted over. 

“What’s in them?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said, turning the computer back to himself. “I haven’t cracked them open yet. But there are other things on here too. The mayor? And Sheriff Hudson? Along with Henry, Patrick, and Belch. Or, er, ‘Reginald’.” At this, Richie snickered.

“I always forget that’s his real name. Poor dude.” Richie said, and Bev nodded in agreement.

Ben ignored them, typing, and after a moment he exhaled softly in confusion. “There’s nothing on here. There’s nothing in any of these folders.” Ben clicked on every single one, starting with Bowers, and then Patrick and Belch. Nothing. He continued with the Mayor and Sheriff Hudson, but there was nothing there, either, and as he went through all of the losers, nothing happened. Except on Eddie’s. Another notification popped up, announcing that they needed to type in another password for it. 

“Try thunderbitch,” Bev suggested, and Ben scoffed as she typed it in. After a split second, a blinking red INCORRECT popped up. “Okay, too obvious.” Ben chuckled slightly.

“Don’t worry, I can get around it. It just might take some time.” Ben said, and went back to typing.

 

~*~

Nancy Wheeler typed rapidly on her computer, not even noticing the darkening sky outside as she did so. The bell above the door to the cafe chimed, but she didn’t look up until Bill sat next to her. “Nancy?”

“Bill! Perfect timing,” she said, finishing whatever she was writing and shutting her laptop. Bill was coming in for his shift, and had more or less been expecting Nancy to be here. She usually was, and liked to stay late until the cafe closed (about 9 PM) and talk to Bill while he worked about her theories for the case. But he didn’t know why she was here now, since everyone pretty much thought the case was closed. “I was just wrapping things up.” Nancy said, and Bill tilted his head in confusion. 

“W-Wait you’re done? You’re l-leaving?” He said, and Nancy nodded. 

“I’m gonna grab some reaction bits, uh, request interviews from the police, get shut down, repeat, but other than that… yeah.” She said. “I mean, the case is pretty much done, so…” she shrugged, putting her laptop into her bag neatly and grabbing her coffee cup. “I mostly just came by to say goodbye and maybe grab another latte for the road.” She held her cup up in the air as if to prove her point. 

“M-muh-maybe you shouldn’t,” Bill said quietly, and Nancy glanced over at him, interested. 

“Okay.” Nancy said slowly, watching him curiously. “Does this have anything to do with the hospital yesterday? The Sheriff isn’t sharing anything.” 

Bill hesitated, and then nodded, eyes on hers. “Y-you know I c-can’t talk about specifics.”

“Okay,” Nancy said again, leaning closer. “And you don’t have to say anything. But… talking from student to podcaster… would you stay… or would you go?”

Bill met her gaze evenly. “I would stay.”


	18. Uploading...

Ben’s rapid typing was the only thing that was thing that broke the silence for at least a couple minutes, Richie and Bev watching over his shoulder as he raced to decode the file. “Oh my god,” Richie said after another minute. “You almost make this look cool.” Bev scoffed, smacking Richie’s arm.

“Don’t distract him.” She said, watching, and Richie rolled his eyes. 

“I think he’s pretty much zoned out of our conversation. Look how focused he is.” He said, gesturing to Ben, who didn’t even glance over at him. 

“Yeah, but-” Bev started, but Ben cut them off, leaning back.

“I’m in.” He said, and Richie leaned forward, but he couldn’t see anything on the screen. It was very pixelated, and he couldn’t tell what anything was, but for some reason the color mix of pixels looked very familiar. He couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“What is it?” He asked, and Ben shook his head. 

“I don’t know. I think it’s a video. Here.” He said, and clicked the play button. The pixels grew smaller and smaller until the three of them could make out two forms on a bed. With horror, Richie realized exactly what it was. 

“Ben, turn it off. Now,” Richie said urgently, and then both looked at him, confused. 

“What? Why?”

“Just do it! We shouldn’t be looking at this stuff, it’s in Eddie’s file so we shouldn’t be the first ones to see it, he should be, so turn it-!” He said, but it was too late. The figures on the bed shifted slightly, and you could see their faces as they talked to each other in quiet tones, occasionally giving little laughs. It was Richie and Eddie. Richie had Eddie in his arms, and occasionally would give the smaller boy kisses, to which Eddie would blush and smile and kiss back. 

Ben and Bev looked shocked, but not entirely surprised. “Richie, I’m sorry-” Ben said, and started typing again, trying to turn it off. Richie tugged at his curls, a little stress washing over him, but not too much. It had already happened. At least it was just Ben and Bev, and they wouldn’t tell anybody. But still, Eddie had wanted to tell them himself, and Richie was sure this wasn’t the way that Eddie had wanted them to find out. 

“Just turn it off, please,” he said, voice quiet, and Ben nodded. He clicked the escape button, but nothing happened. He clicked a couple more buttons, but instead of the video shutting down, the word UPLOADING appeared on the screen. “Uploading?” Richie said, sounding strangled, and Ben’s typing turned more frantic. “Uploading  _ where?” _

“I-It’s a hidden executable, I can’t stop it,” Ben said, panic in his voice. “It’s just been shared with a listserv.”

“ _ What listserv?”  _ Richie nearly shouted, panic clear in his voice, too. Almost as if in response, all three of their phones chimed at the same time. With shaking hands, Richie pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it numbly as the video played on the screen. Ben’s voice was nearly a whisper as he spoke. 

“Everyone.”


	19. Conversion Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The video is released and spreads throughout Derry. Bill had a discussion with a new detective, and Richie and Eddie talk about what happened two years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I was gonna do a double post yesterday, and I'm sorry that I didn't have time for it, I haven't been feeling well lately so even this chapter was a struggle, but I made sure to make it longer than usual to make up for yesterday. It's about 4,000 words :)  
> TW: Homophobia and straight camps/conversion camps. There's no specific details, but there is mention of them, along with therapists.

The next morning was a blur for Richie as he got ready for school. He was barely awake, having stayed up the whole night trying to get Eddie to answer his phone. Around 3 AM Richie had given up calling and had gone out and up to Eddie’s window. Instead of opening up, though, Eddie didn’t even look out to see who it was, ignoring it completely. Richie stayed out there for about an hour before he gave up on that, too, and went home. Now, nearly three hours later, Eddie still hadn’t texted him back or called him.

It was really starting to scare Richie.

Everything had been going great, and now Eddie had retreated again. Just like he had two years ago. They had been talking and closer than ever and now he was just gone. Richie didn’t know what to do, how to fix it. Bill had said to give it time- Richie had texted him almost immediately, freaking out, and he had been the one to calm him down. He wanted to say that if Eddie left him again, he wouldn’t be that affected- he had gotten over it before- but when he thought about it, had he really? How well had he really gotten over it? Because that day that Eddie had come back, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to immediately forgive him for everything that he had done. So if Eddie left him again, he didn’t know how well he would handle it.

He could remember the nights that had been spent over at Bev’s house, in tears because he didn’t understand what he had done wrong, what had happened that had made the others just… up and leave. She didn’t understand either, but she had been there for them. And at least they had still talked to her, even if it wasn’t half as much as they used to. But Richie had been cut out, clean and cold. 

That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was making sure it didn’t happen again. And at least, if Eddie cut him out again (the thought sent a painful stab through his chest) then the other Losers wouldn’t leave, too. Not this time. They had all reassured him of that, which Richie was grateful for, but they had also told him that Eddie would come around. It would just take a while. The problem was, Richie didn’t know how to apologize, how to fix it, because while he knew that something shitty had happened, he also knew that he didn’t do anything wrong. Richie hadn’t been the one to take the video, he hadn’t been the one to upload it, and Ben hadn’t been, either. It had turned out the file had an automatic upload virus in it, so once the video was open, there was no stopping it from spreading.

Ben had been able to pull the video within a couple minutes of it being released, but the damage was done. 

So as Richie drove to school and tried not to crash into anything, he also called Bev, needing to hear her voice. 

“Hey, Rich, how you doing?” She asked gently, and he exhaled softly. 

“Eddie’s still not answering any of my calls,” He said for an answer, and heard Bev give a sympathetic sigh. 

“He’ll come around, I promise. Talk to him today at school. Tell him what happened. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He murmured quietly, voice soft and serious and upset, which was really unlike him.

“And hey, about the video… that which doesn’t destroy us makes us stronger, right?” She said, and Richie scoffed.

“Yeah, or it just takes its sweet time destroying us.” 

“It’ll be okay. I promise.” She said again. “Just talk to him at school, and tell him that what happened wasn’t your fault. It’s Eddie. He’ll understand.”

Richie thought of what happened last year and bit back a, “Will he?” Instead, he said, “You’re right.”

“Sorry, what was that? I think you’re breaking up a little,” Bev said into the phone, and Richie rolled his eyes.

“I’m not saying it again, Bev.” 

“Damn. I was gonna record it and make it my new ringtone for you.” She said, and Richie couldn’t help but shake his head and smile. 

“Yeah, whatever. See you soon.” 

“Bye, Trashmouth.” She said, and he hung up.

 

~*~

 

School wasn’t much different than usual for him, if he had to be honest. Everything had gotten progressively worse since the first video had been released, but after that, nothing could really  _ get worse _ at school. The people at Derry High School weren’t very creative with insults, so it was the same thing every day. And Bowers had pretty much left him alone since Richie had broken his nose, so he didn’t have to worry about that, either. At least for now. He was sure that Henry would come after him again sometime soon, but for a little while at least, he was off the hook.

The only thing that made Richie feel like shit today was the fact that he knew Eddie was going through the same thing he was, and Richie couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Eddie wasn’t used to it- and Richie knew he was strong, but Richie also knew just how much those words could tear you down, no matter how strong you are. So when he saw the shorter boy talking to Bill in hushed tones, leaning against his locker and looking upset, he didn’t hesitate before making his way over there. 

As soon as he got there, Eddie turned away from him, looking upset. 

“Hey, why didn’t you return my calls?” Richie asked, stepping into Eddie’s view once again. Bill gave Richie an encouraging thumbs up and slipped into the crowd of people to give them some privacy.

“Seriously?” Eddie said, turning to his locker and starting to put in his combination to distract himself.

“Yeah, seriously. I mean, I know it sucks, but I thought that maybe we could, you know, talk about it? Instead of you just cutting me off?” Richie said, and then added a little quieter, “Again?”

Eddie paused, before turning back to face him, combination forgotten. “Why would you even do that? Film us?”

Richie stared at him, shock in his brown eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I know you love that stupid camera of yours, Richie, but… what the hell? What was even the point of filming that? That was private, I thought you understood that,” he snapped.

“Eddie, you think I…?” Richie started, and when Eddie just stared at him expectantly, hurt filled his gaze. “I didn’t film it, Eds, I swear.”

“If you didn’t, then how does it exist?” 

“I don’t know! But you honestly think that I would do that? Even if I did film it- which I didn’t- why the hell would I post it?”

Eddie sighed and just turned back to his locker, opening it up. He immediately regretted it, staring at a piece of paper that had been taped to the back of his locker. In red sharpie, it said HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE THE STAR OF THE SHOW? 

“What the hell?” Richie asked, reaching in and pulling it off the back of the wall. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been getting notes all day so far, and it’s not even first period.” Eddie said, grabbing his books and slamming his locker shut with an irritated force Richie didn’t know he had. 

“Yeah, but this one… It almost goes back to what Bev said. At the hospital. ‘It’s like… we’re the stars of the show’. You think-?” 

“No.” Eddie said, grabbing the note from Richie’s hands and shoving it into the nearest trash can. “No. It’s a coincidence, okay? Or some dick playing a joke on me because of the video.” 

“Eddie, I don’t think so,” Richie said quietly, and Eddie started to walk down the hallway, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Richie walked faster to keep up with him. Even with Richie’s long legs, Eddie was still somehow faster than him. “Listen to me. When we looked on Greta’s laptop, we found files with everyone’s names, okay? Including you. And all of them were empty, except for yours. When Ben looked into it, the video popped up, so I told him to shut it off. Except when he did, he uploaded. Which meant that it’s not any of our fault, okay? It was programmed to share the video no matter what.”

Eddie turned to look at him skeptically, and Richie lowered his voice a little bit. “Can you just trust me? Please? Because I think it’s a little unfair for  _ you  _ to be the one not trusting  _ me. _ ” After a minute, Eddie’s expression softened and he nodded.

“Sorry, I just… this isn’t the way that I thought I would come out.” There was a split second of pause, and then Eddie shrugged, looking down. “Actually, I didn’t think I would come out at all. I mostly planned to just graduate and get out of this town.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” Richie said gently. “But you can’t just shut me out again, okay? I didn’t exactly handle it well last time. Which, by the way, you still owe me an explanation for,” he added, and Eddie gave a small nod of agreement. “And it’s happened to me, too, remember?” Richie continued as they walked down the halls, and Eddie guiltily thought back to the video that had been posted just before the first murder. “My point is, I can help. And if anyone tries to say anything to you, I can kindly introduce them to my fist.” He said with a small grin, and Eddie couldn’t help the little smile that appeared on his face.

“Yeah, whatever. Can I come over after school? We can talk? Normally I would say you could come over to mine, but my mom saw the video too, so…” He shrugged, and Richie nodded. 

“Of course.” Richie said, and together they walked into class.

 

~*~

 

“I understand that someone was calling you?” Detective Lorraine Brock watched Bill from across Sheriff Hudson’s usual desk, looking calm and collected. Bill had been taken there in the middle of school- apparently they couldn’t wait- because Sheriff Hudson had been replaced on the case by someone from the State’s official police force. Bill didn’t like it at all. She stared at him expectantly, and while he had thought Sheriff Hudson was bad, she was worse. Even if her words weren’t pressing, her gaze was, and everything about her was posh and pristine. She held herself in a way that told him she thought of herself almost… above him, and he didn’t like it.

“Wh-what?” Bill asked, frowning.

“I read the incident reports. Now, I know that you doubted Victor was the killer. Turns out you were right. So what did this person have to say?” The detective inclined her head slightly to the left, and feigned a smile. Bill fought the urge to roll his eyes, pretending to think. It wasn’t even a second before she spoke again. “Bill?” She said expectantly, and he didn’t bother to hold in his sigh. 

“It was n-nothing. Just s-some Brandon James pr-prank, trying t-t-to scare me. I overreacted.”

“Did you know Ash?” She asked bluntly, and Bill was really glad that it wasn’t Richie she had asked that question to. He made a mental note to warn Richie about that later.

“N-No. But we h-have a mutual friend.” Bill said, not willing to give her any more information than necessary.

“Richie Tozier, right?” She said, and Bill nodded quietly. “Okay. Well, three of the victims are clearly related, but… Ash’s suicide, it’s an anomaly. It seems as though the killer wanted to send a message that only the medical examiner would get.” There was a long pause, and Detective Lorraine just watched him, waiting for him to break and start spilling details. Bill remained cold and unemotional to it, not wanting to give anything away. The police hadn’t exactly been any help last time, and he was sure that they wouldn’t be this time, either. 

“Y-You’d have to ask m-muh-my mom about th-that, then.” He said smoothly, and after a moment she nodded. 

“That’s right. Your mom is the M.E., your dad is the  _ only _ survivor of Brandon James,” at this, Bill shifted uncomfortably, but she pressed on. “And your pictures were found at that hospital, along with your friends. These aren’t all coincidences, Bill.” The friendliness pretense was dropped. “Are they?” 

Bill bit his lip, not saying anything.  _ No. No, they’re not. _

 

~*~

 

“That was fast.” Bill’s mom said as he exited the office, and he just shrugged, thoughts whirling in his head almost too fast to comprehend. “What happened in there?”

“You s-said there were certain th-things you couldn’t t-tuh-tell me because you w-wanted to protect me, r-right?” Bill said, glancing over at her.

“Yeah, I’m starting to regret that now,” She said as she walked with him, and he stopped, turning to face her.

“Too l-late. It goes both w-wuh-ways.” At that, he kept walking, out the door.

 

~*~

 

Richie’s room was a mess, and it was kind of hard not to trip over everything as he made his way across the room and to the bed. Richie’s parents weren’t home, like usual, so they had the house to themselves. Richie picked his way expertly through the mess, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about the mess, I uh… I’ve been meaning to clean up, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He seemed almost nervous as he sat down on the bed, and Eddie just shrugged. 

“I don’t really mind.” He said, sitting down next to Richie and leaning into him. Richie smiled and slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I know. So… wanna talk about it?” He asked, and Eddie gave a small nod. The video circling school, and the rest of Derry, actually, had pretty much ruined any chance the Losers had to keep their place in the social hierarchy. While Mike still got some credit for being on the football team, everyone else was pretty much back to their place at the bottom. None of them cared, really, but it did mean a lot more insults and shoves in the hallways than Eddie had had to deal with in years. It absolutely sucked, but at least now he understood what Richie had to go through every day. 

“I never realized how much of a dick someone can be until today. I mean, sure, I’ve had to deal with Henry, but seriously? Who cares if I like guys? Why is it that big of a deal?” Eddie groaned, resting his head on Richie’s shoulder.

“Tell me about it,” Richie agreed. “And I’m really sorry about the video being released. I know you weren’t ready for that.” Eddie nodded quietly, and Richie paused for a minute, considering his words carefully. “Has… has your mom said anything about it?” Richie prodded gently, and Eddie’s beautiful face twisted into a scowl. 

“Trust me, she’s said plenty of things about it.”  _ And you,  _ Eddie thought quietly, before shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Speaking of her… Richie, I wanted to talk to you about what happened two years ago,” he said, turning to face Richie, and could see Richie’s fingers starting to move against his leg slightly, tapping away. It was a thing he did when he was nervous. “The reason I wasn’t ready to come out so soon was because…” he sighed softly. “I came out two years ago to my mom. And, long story short, she reacted horribly. Which you could probably guess.” Eddie could vividly remember that night, sitting down at the table across from her, hands fiddling in his lap nervously as he said, “Ma, I’ve got-”

_ “-something to tell you,” Eddie said nervously, and Sonia Kaspbrak looked back at him in concern.  _

_ “Are you sick, Eddiebear? We can go to the emergency room  _ right  _ away.” She said, and started to stand up, but Eddie shook his head.  _

_ “No, ma, I’m not sick. It’s something else. And it’s really important, so please… please just let me talk, okay?” Eddie said, taking a deep breath, and reluctantly Sonia sat back down. “Look, I’m… I’m gay, okay? A-And-” _

_ “You are not gay!” Sonia said, standing up abruptly with a scowl on her face. She towered over Eddie, and though he wanted to shrink back, he stood up, too. “You are not! It’s those boys, they’ve gotten into your head. Infected you. I do not have a queer son,” She snapped at him, waving her hands dramatically.  _

_ “No.” Eddie said firmly, though he didn’t know how he kept his voice so strong. “I am. I’m gay. And there’s nothing you can do to change it, ma, trust me, I’ve tried-” _

_ “Well you didn’t try hard enough!” Sonia said, and Eddie stared at her, mouth parting in surprise. “How could you do this to me, Eddie? I want grandchildren! Not some disgusting queer! No. This is just another infection that you have. And we’ll get rid of it, starting with those… with those so-called friends of yours! They’re probably all disgusting, nasty fags.” Then her eyes softened, and oh, how Eddie hated it. It was that look that she gave him whenever he was about to get another checkup, or be put on more pills. “Oh, but don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get you all set up… we can check you in with a therapist, and-” _

_ “N-No!” He said, sounding like he couldn’t breathe properly, and reached for his inhaler, taking a few puffs on it before putting it away. “I don’t need a therapist, ma, I-I was just… kidding.” He said, but it was obvious Sonia didn’t believe it for a minute. _

_ “Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad, Eddiebear. And there’s this nice camp that I read about, it’s a boarding camp, but you’d get to have visitors on the weekend! And it’s really quite lovely, I think you would enjoy it-” Sonia rambled on, but all Eddie could think was,  _ She wants to send me to a straight camp? 

_ “Ma, please, I don’t need to go to a camp, I promise. Or… or see a therapist. I’m okay, really…” _

_ “This is definitely NOT okay.” She said fiercely. “Now, I’ll… I’ll think about the camp. But you have to get rid of those friends of yours. That… that Richie Tozier especially. He’s the most obviously queer one.” She scoffed. “And he obviously likes you, disgusting pig.” _

_ “Don’t call him-!” Eddie started hotly, but Sonia cut him off. _

_ “Hush! Now. You drop him, and I will consider not sending you to the camp.”  _

_ “But ma-” Eddie started again, and this time, Sonia pulled out one of her greatest weapons. Her tears. _

_ “I’m trying to help you, Eddie! This could ruin your life, you’re sick, and you’re refusing to let me help you!” Tears streamed down her fat face and dribbled onto her shirt, making it wet. Eddie felt sick to his stomach. “You’re making me look like a mother who doesn’t love her child, and I do, Eddiebear. I’m trying to do what’s best for you! How could you not appreciate that?”  _

_ “I-I do, ma, I do-” _

_ “No you don’t!” She wailed. “I’m trying to protect you! Do you know how hard this is on me? I-I love you, Eddie, and I just want the best for you! And that Tozier boy is not what’s best for you, do you hear me? He drinks, and smokes, and he’s gonna end up like his deadbeat father! And I don’t want him anywhere near you anymore!” She cried, and Eddie gripped onto the table hard.  _ This can’t be happening,  _ he thought miserably.  _ I’m so sorry, Richie…

_ “So, here’s my deal,” she sniffed, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes pitifully. Dread filled Eddie’s stomach- he had a feeling he wouldn’t like this deal at all. “You leave that nasty Tozier boy behind, and… and I will consider not sending you to that camp, okay?”  _

_ “Ma, please-” he whispered weakly, in one last attempt to make her stop. _

_ “Okay?” She said loudly over him, and Eddie shut his eyes, tears making their way down his face.  _

_ “Okay,” he said softly.  _

“Eddie?” Richie’s voice interrupted Eddie’s thoughts, and Eddie opened his eyes, not even noticing the wetness on his cheeks until Richie reached out and brushed the tears away gently. “You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to, Eds.” Richie said, and Eddie smiled gently at the nickname, even as he replied. 

“Don’t call me that.” After a small pause, he exhaled and straightened. “She threatened to send me to a straight camp, okay? I came out to her and she said she was gonna send me to a straight camp. And I told her I didn’t want to go, and she said that the only way that she wouldn’t send me is if I get rid of my friends. Specifically… you.” He finished slowly. 

“Why me?” Richie frowned, but he honestly didn’t look like he cared much what Sonia Kaspbrak thought.

“I… well, you know how she is.” Eddie shrugged, not wanting to tell him that she had said he was going to turn out just like his father. 

“What did she say?” Richie said, already knowing that it would probably be bad. 

Eddie sighed, knowing from experience that Richie wasn’t gonna give up on this, and leaned back. “She said… she said that you “infected me”, and… and that you’re gonna turn out like your father,” as he said the last part, his voice got smaller and quieter. He heard Richie inhale sharply, but then he exhaled and shook his head.

“Whatever. I don’t care what she thinks.” Richie shrugged, and Eddie looked up at him. He studied him, trying to figure out whether or not he was lying, but it looked like Richie was telling the truth when he said he didn’t care.

“Good.” Eddie smiled, but it faded at Richie’s next question.

“What did she say about the video?”

“I… I don’t know yet. She just took away my phone and said we’d talk about it when I got home from school. Which should’ve been about an hour ago. I’m probably not helping my case, but whatever.” He shrugged.

“Do you think she’ll really send you to that camp?” Richie asked, concern in his gaze, and Eddie shrugged, looking back down.

“I don’t know. If she does, I’ll come stay here, instead, or with Bill or something, I don’t know. But I’m definitely not going to one of those.” Eddie said, and Richie smiled. 

“You could definitely come stay here. I mean, my parents are never home, so it’d just be us. It’d be great.” 

“If she says she’s gonna send me to the camp, then I’ll definitely come stay here, okay? But she’ll freak, so I think for now I need to stay over there. The most she’ll probably do is try and send me to a therapist. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He smiled and leaned forward, kissing Richie gently. He would never get tired of that- of how easily he could just lean forward and kiss him, whenever he wanted to.

“Okay.” Richie said in agreement. “But if she even mentions the camp, you’re staying here, got it? That shit can really screw with your head, and no one deserves that.”

Eddie nodded with another smile, and Richie leaned back, pulling Eddie closer. “Now that we’ve got that sorted,” Richie said, “Wanna stay here a little longer before going back there?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Richie,” Eddie said, and rested his head on Richie’s chest, letting himself relax for the moment. 


	20. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stenbrough finally happens :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit of a filler until the end, sorry.

 

Stan sat at one of the tables at Bill’s cafe, stirring his untouched coffee absentmindedly with a spoon. He stared out the window, deep in thought about everything that had been happening, when the chair across from him screeched as it was dragged out. He jolted out of his thoughts, eyes snapping over to the person who now sat across from him- Mike. “Hey,” he muttered distractedly, looking back out the window. He watched as some birds twittered and flew around, before finally landing on the birdbath across the street.

“Hey. Is something up? Besides the whole, you know, murder thing.” Mike said, grimacing slightly. Stan shifted uncomfortably, giving a small shrug. “What’s bothering you?” Mike pushed gently, leaning forward and taking a drink of his own coffee.

“I just…” His thoughts kept wandering back to Audra, over and over again. How upset Bill was over her, how he seemed to be in a sort of permanent slump. Sure, he understood why Bill was upset- but he just couldn’t get past the fact that there was so much Bill didn’t know about Audra. For example, just how often she cheated on him, or the fact that their whole relationship was based on a lie. He pressed his lips together in a firm line. “Someone should tell Bill what really happened freshman year. With Audra.”

Mike blinked, looking taken aback. “You can’t do that to Bill, Stan, I mean… he’s already heartbroken enough as it is, don’t you think?” At this, Stan looked down, feeling guilt surge through him. Yeah, Bill was heartbroken, but didn’t he at least deserve to know that Audra hadn’t even been dating Bill because she wanted to?

“Yeah, but… I just… I can’t just keep _lying_ to Bill. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“L-lying to me a-a-about wh-what?” A voice said from behind Stan, and he winced. He looked at Mike for help, but Mike just shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Do what you gotta do.” He said simply, and got up, leaving the two of them alone.

 

~*~

 

Rock music played loudly throughout the store as Ben typed on Greta’s computer rapidly, hacking his way through any other firewalls to try and see what he could find out. People milled around them, but no one payed them much mind- the store was usually pretty empty most days, and today wasn’t an exception. There were a few people here and there, but they mostly kept to themselves, which Richie was grateful for. They sat on the couch that Eddie had fallen asleep on a couple nights ago, and Bev’s head was on Richie’s lap while her feet were on Ben’s. Ben just reached over them to type without effort, though the slightly fond smile on his face told Richie that he loved the effortless affection that came with using him as a sort of pillow.

“You know, Superman wears a mock turtleneck now,” Bev said as she flipped through the comic, looking beyond amused. Richie rolled his eyes.

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started,” he said dramatically. “I mean, if they ever put the Hulk in bike shorts, I am officially done.”

“Oh, but they’re so stretchy,” Bev said with a teasing tone, and Richie clapped a hand over her mouth.

“You disgust me.” He said with a grin, but before he could say anything else, Ben glanced over and interrupted.

“Do either of you have the language arts homework from the school server downloaded?” He asked, pausing in his movements.

“Uh, no. Why?” Richie asked, frowning slightly.

“Just download it. You’ll see,” He said, and resumed typing, though much slower, like he was waiting for one of them to download it before he could fully do anything.

“Done,” Richie said after a moment, looking at Ben in confusion. Ben hit a button on the computer, and a video screen appeared on the computer. You could see Richie through his phone’s camera. Bev sat up straight, eyes going wide.

“What the fuck?”

“The video of Richie and Eddie looked like it was from a webcam, so I _Tron_ -ed my way into the root directory and found some pretty nasty malware. It’s lets you access webcams, security systems, phones, everything.” Ben said, leaning back and frowning. Bev stared at him, and Richie himself was connecting the dots.

“And this is all attached to our language arts homework?” Bev asked, and at Ben’s nod, she exhaled softly in surprise. “Mr. Branson.”

“The only teacher who still lets us talk about our theories in class,” Richie observed.

“So… Mr. Branson hacked people’s webcams, and Greta kept the files?” Bev asked, and Ben shifted uncomfortably.

“I was hoping that he’s just Greta’s innocent pawn,” Ben said, and Richie shook his head slowly.

“I sense an alliance.”

 

~*~

 

“Okay, so before I say what I have to say…” Stan eyed Bill’s coffee cup that sat right across from him, imagining the coffee that was currently inside getting splashed all over his neatly pressed clothes and making his hair nasty and crunchy. He could also imagine the burn of the coffee as Bill threw it in his face at what he would say, and gave a nervous smile, taking his eyes away from the seemingly innocent coffee cup sitting right there. “How hot is your coffee?”

Bill stared at him in confusion. “Uh… it’s c-coffee, so… pretty h-hot?”

“Okay.” Stan took both of their coffee cups away and set them on the table beside them so Bill couldn’t reach it easily if he needed something to throw. Which Stan doubted would happen, but he didn’t wanna take any chances. “So, um, freshman year, before you and Audra were even friends, um… Greta, you know… she was, well, Greta. And she was friends with Audra, before… everything. You know, the um… the murders...” Stan cleared his throat and looked down, fingers tapping against the table like Richie usually did. _1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…_

“So one day at lunch, Mike and I heard overheard them talking. Greta… she…” Stan sighed, shutting his eyes and forcing his fingers to still against the table. “She bet Audra that she couldn’t sleep with you inside of a month.” He said in a rush, and when he opened his eyes, the look on Bill’s face made him want to slap himself for not telling Bill sooner. “And she walked over to you, and…”

“G-Gave me her n-number. And th-that was the f-fuh-first time we ever sp-spoke.” Bill said numbly, and Stan looked miserable.

“I’m sorry, Bill, I know I should have told you, it’s just… you were smitten. And I thought that maybe she would figure it out, that you don’t deserve to be treated like that. But she didn’t, and it just got harder and harder to tell you as it went on, and I’m sorry.”

Bill let out a trembling breath, and Stan’s fingers started tapping again. “Look, if you want to hit me, you can, it’s totally fine.” Stan said nervously. “Or throw the coffee on me. Just try not to aim for my face, please.” He shut his eyes and braced himself for it, but it never came. After another second of silence, his eyes fluttered back open again timidly. “Bill?”

“I-I could s-say I don’t wanna b-be friends with y-you anymore.” Bill said, and Stan felt his heart sink.

“You could,” he said softly, looking down.

“B-But that wouldn’t b-be true.” Bill admitted, and Stan breathed a sigh of relief.

“Bill, I’m sorry.” He said again, and Bill just shook his head, looking away.

“Everyone l-lies. And e-everyone’s sorry,” he muttered bitterly, and Stan watched him, biting his lower lip hard to keep from repeating just how sorry he was. “It’s just like they said.” Bill pulled away from the table, grabbing his coffee cup and not meeting Stan’s gaze as he turned away. “I have t-to go b-back to work.”

 

~*~

 

 _“Hello, Mr. Mayor,”_ his secretary’s voice said through the phone, and Quinn Maddox forced his voice to sound busy and yet cheerful.

“Sheila! I just wanted to inform you that I can’t make it to the council meeting because I have a doctor’s appointment,” he said as he pulled into the abandoned warehouse, sleek silver car pulling in smoothly.

“ _No problem, sir. I’ll take care of it,”_ Sheila said, and Quinn hung up, getting out of the car and staring nervously around the empty warehouse for a minute before taking a small yellow package out of the car.

“Hello?” He called into the warehouse, but there was no response, just the echo of his voice. There was a damp sort of smell to it, mixed with metallic rust and the smell of machinery. There was a small car similar to his own inside of it, too. His phone chimed, signalling a text message, and he swallowed hard as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled the text message up.

**_Unknown: Get in the car._ **

The Mayor hesitated for a second, and then started to walk towards the car, uncertainty in his steps as he did so. He opened the car door and got inside nervously, sitting down. He looked into the rearview mirror, and jumped slightly when a mask stared back at him through it. The person stared at him expectantly through the rearview mirror, waiting, and it didn’t even take Quinn a second before he was holding up the thick yellow package. “I did what you said.”

The masked person took the package from him, and pressed his head down against the car’s steering wheel, making it clear that he was to stay there as he checked the package. Quinn rested his head against the cool steering wheel, waiting nervously. “It’s 10,000,” Quinn said nervously, and heard movement behind him but couldn’t see what the masked man was doing. “It’s all I could get in a day, I-”

Quinn was yanked back, and his head slammed against the car seat before he was getting pushed forward again. There was a crunch as his nose connected with the steering wheel, and he swore instinctively. “If you want the rest, you’re going about it the wrong way.” As Quinn said this, he was yanked back again, and saw the flash of a knife as it was pressed against his throat. Despite this, he managed to get out, “How do I even know you have it?”

After a second, a screen came into his view, and he watched the contents on it with mounting dread. There was the confirmation he needed- the video still existed. “I’m not giving you the rest without a guarantee that video disappears forever.” He said fiercely, and the masked figure nodded slowly. “Okay.” He murmured. “I need two days.”

The figure held up one slim finger. _One day._ The Mayor gave a shaky nod, and the figure released him slowly. The Mayor opened the car door and got out of there as fast as he could.

About an hour later, Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter stood in the dark light of the abandoned warehouse, the mask discarded on the floor. It was similar to the one that Brandon James had used, a plastic copy that they had used to scare the Mayor even more than he already had been.

“What the hell was that?” Henry said furiously, taking a threatening step closer to Patrick. “We said no harm, no foul. You broke his nose. I could seriously go down for that.”

“Dude, it was badass!” Patrick disagreed, shrugging. “I had the mayor eating out of the palm of my hand. It was great.” At this, Henry shook his head, and Patrick bit back a comment of, _Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it just as much as me._

“Where’s the money?” Henry asked, and Patrick pulled it out, putting it in Henry’s hand.

“The rest is coming soon.” Patrick promised, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Good. And wipe that stupid smile off your face, you look like a fucking idiot,” Henry snapped, anger at Patrick still fully there. Assault and blackmail? That would get him kicked out of college for sure. There was no way he was going down for this if they got caught. He turned away from Patrick and shoved the money in his bag, getting into his car and driving away.

 

~*~

 

Bill walked down the street quietly, trying not to think about everything that had just happened with Stan and Audra. It’s not like he could confront her about it anyways, since she was… was dead, but still. He felt like he needed to do _something_ \- break something, punch someone, shout and scream until he couldn’t anymore. There was one thing that he refused to do though, because he was sick of doing it- crying. He refused to let himself break down like that, not again. That was all he had been doing lately, and it was time to stop. So instead, he had left the coffee shop quickly, not bothering to let Stan know that he was leaving before slipping out of the door while the taller boy was busy watching the birds outside. He felt slightly guilty about it, but not as bad as he usually would’ve. He didn’t understand how it had been nearly a year since that had happened, and Stan had never told him. It was different from when Stan had told him about Audra cheating- because at least it had just recently happened, not a year ago. This was different, somehow.

He was walking so fast that he barely noticed as he slammed right into Nancy, immediately stumbling back and apologizing over and over again. She reached out and steadied him, giving him a warm and reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, Bill, seriously. I’m fine.” Almost as if just noticing the distressed look on his face, her smile melted away. “Hey, are you okay?”

Bill opened his mouth to say what he would usually, “Yeah, I’m fine, everything’s good.” Instead, though, what came out was, “I-I don’t kn-know.”

Nancy nodded gently, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her to the bench. They both sat down, and Nancy glanced over at him. She pulled her bag up on her lap, and took something silvery out. It looked like a flask, and she started unscrewing the top. “So… there might be some urban… type… liquid in here… but obviously, I could _never_ offer it to a _minor.”_ She said slowly, looking around to make sure that no one saw them. Bill hesitated, and then took the flask from her and lifted it to his lips, thinking _what the hell, why not?_

“Th-thanks,” He said after he took a sip from it, and she nodded slowly.  “I-I just… I wanna b-believe in s-something that doesn’t turn out t-to be utter cr-crap.” He said quietly, and she nodded once again in agreement.

“I hear that.”

“A-Aren’t you supposed t-to tell me something l-like, it’ll get b-buh-better?” He asked her with a raised eyebrow, and she gave a small laugh.

“I could. But it’d be a lie.” Bill sighed and looked at the ground, and Nancy went on. “Life is like… Charlie Brown and his football, you know? That bitch Lucy keeps yanking it away, but you gotta keep kicking.”

After a minute, Bill looked at her curiously. “So wh-what got yanked away fr-from you?”

“Well, that would sound like some angsty Southern playwright BS.” Nancy said with a small laugh, but this time it was a little less… there.

“Tell me,” He said, and then looked up at her. “O-Only if you w-wuh-want to, of course.”

Nancy nodded, and then pursed her lips, thinking of the best way to say it. After a minute, she decided to just get it out there. “My dad was murdered,” she said bluntly, and Bill’s eyes widened slightly. “I was too young to remember him,” she went on before Bill could interrupt, so he just watched and listened. “The police never solved it, either. Honestly, I don’t think they tried.”

“I am so sorry,” Bill whispered, glancing over at her and handing the flask back. She gave a small, sad smile and took a drink from it. “Is… is th-that why you do th-this?”

Nancy nodded slowly, screwing the top back on the flask and stowing it away in her bag. “Yeah. I started to ask questions as soon as I could talk, and I guess I never really stopped.” Nancy shrugged, and Bill nodded. There was a small pause, and then Nancy took a deep breath and stood up. “I think I’m gonna get going, okay?”

Bill stood up as well, and gave a nod. Nancy put her hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes and giving him another reassuring smile. “Hang in there, kiddo.” She smiled, and with that, was gone.

 

~*~

 

“Alright, now let’s put what we’ve learned to the test,” the self defense teacher clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Remember. Self defense is not about how strong we are. It’s about how well we use the strength we have inside. Now, let’s have Henry…” he said, and Henry stepped forward onto the black mat, smirking. Richie held back the urge to punch him in face.

“And Marsh.” The teacher finished, and everyone visibly stiffened. Bev glanced over at Richie and then stepped forward onto the black mat, already planning out her strategy in her head. Richie watched nervously as Henry stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her like an attacker would. “Good,” the teacher said, and Henry tightened his grip unnecessarily on Bev.

“You’re so dead, Marsh,” Henry whispered in her ear, and she felt a rush of anger run through her.

“Okay,” the teacher said. “So what you wanna do is-” before he even finished the sentence, Bev had grabbed onto Henry’s arm, using her smaller form to duck out from underneath him and shove him to the ground. She didn’t let go of his arm, and as he fell she twisted it up and behind his back. She pushed it farther than she had to, and heard Henry let out a hiss of surprise and pain.

“How does it feel to take it in front of everyone?” She growled in his ear, and then got up, releasing him and walking back over to Richie with a neutral expression on her face.

“That was fucking iconic,” Richie said with a laugh, clapping and not caring that everybody was staring at him like he was insane. Bev gave a pleased smile, and didn’t say anything.

 

~*~

 

“St-Stan, can I talk t-to you?” Bill said, jogging up to him in the mostly empty hallway of the school. Stan turned to him in surprise.

“I thought you were mad at me?” He said tentatively, and Bill shrugged, looking down.

“It’s k-kuh-kind of hard to b-be mad at y-you,” he admitted truthfully. “Yesterday was so embarrassing, and i-it kept getting worse a-and worse… and th-then, I realized… you know, I’m h-here. I’m alive. I’m br-breathing. And I can make m-muh-my own choices.” As he said this, he thought of how he had _really_ felt whenever Audra was around. Like he was pressured to do something, all the time. Everything was about her, her, her. And then he thought of how he was around Stan- he was never happier. Stan was always there for him- no matter what. And he was so, so grateful for that. Stan was still staring at him quizzically, though, not quite understanding what he meant.

So instead of speaking, Bill took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Stan’s in a simple kiss.


	21. Constellations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Beverly find something else out about Mr. Branson. Bill gets another call from our killer. Eddie and Richie talk about the video and we find out how Eddie's mom reacted, and Bill and Stan go on a date.

“Hello?” Ben said as he opened the classroom door, peeking his head inside and looking around. The classroom looked empty, but he wanted to be sure before he and Bev attempted what they were doing. “Hello? Mr. Branson?” He waited about another minute, before nodding to Bev and saying quietly, “All clear.” As soon as the words were uttered, Bev ducked inside, making her way over to the computer with no hesitation. She started to type, and Ben glanced over her, frowning slightly. “Don’t you think it’s a little wrong to be invading his laptop?”

“Oh, please,” Bev scoffed. “He’s invading everybody’s everything.”

“Okay, fine, lemme do it,” Ben said, and Beverly traded places with Ben as the lookout so Ben could hack into Mr. Branson’s laptop. A couple seconds passed by, and then a confirmation came from Ben. “Yeah, here’s the malware…” he frowned, sitting down in the seat and continuing to type. “Hold on, there’s two other user IDs. It looks like… his student aids had access to the computer, too.”

“Let me guess… Victor?” Beverly asked, and Ben nodded to show she was right.

“And… and Audra,” Ben said in surprise, and Bev’s eyes widened.

“That means that Greta, Victor, and Audra knew his secret,” she murmured, and her gaze met Ben’s, looking shaken up. “What if he killed them all to keep his secret?” As soon as she said that, a door slammed, and a quick peek out the classroom door showed that it was Mr. Branson. Beverly gestured frantically for Ben to close the laptop, and he did so quickly, stepping away from Mr. Branson’s desk as the man himself stepped through the classroom door.

“...Ben? Beverly?” Mr. Branson said curiously, and Ben gave a timid smile, gripping the desk behind him tightly so he wouldn’t show how nervous he was as Mr. Branson stepped closer. “What are you two doing in here?”

“I left my phone,” Beverly said quickly, and Ben was thankful for the fact that she was so good at lying. She held up her phone as if to prove her point, and while Mr. Branson looked hesitant to let it go that easily, he gave a small nod. Then his eyes flicked over to the laptop on the desk behind him, and Ben’s heart seemed to stop completely as Mr. Branson’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He thought back to when they had first walked into the room- and remembered that the laptop had been open when they had arrived. Now it lay closed on the desk, looking deceivingly innocent. _Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god,_ Ben thought, and it seemed to just play on a loop in his head.

“Okay,” Mr. Branson said slowly, and stepped out of the way so that they could get bye. “See you in class tomorrow.” His tone sounded friendly enough, but after what he had seen on the computer, Ben didn’t believe it for a second. And he knew that Mr. Branson hadn’t missed the fact that the laptop was now closed, either. But Ben just nodded, and he and Bev got the hell out of there.

 

~*~

 

Bill sat at his desk at home, scrolling through his laptop. He was on a website called Murder Lair, on the section about Brandon James, and scrolling through it was giving him goosebumps. Brandon’s old home was one of the many pictures on the screen, and it was in black and white to give it a more spooky effect. Bill didn’t think it needed it- it was quite creepy as it is. Brandon had lived on a farm, and the house was two stories tall. The windows were now boarded up, and the house was pretty much falling apart. It was obvious that no one lived there anymore. Paragraphs and paragraphs were written underneath the picture of the house, talking about Brandon’s backstory and his home life, but Bill didn’t bother to read them. After the Losers had gotten back together, half of the time, Brandon James was all the Bev and Richie would talk about. Which was totally fine with him- he had to get used to it because of everything that was going on, and he guess that was one good thing about having two friends that were obsessed with serial killers. No further research was needed. It was kind of creepy how they finished each other’s sentences all the time about the serial killers, but whatever. If that was what made them happy now, Bill wouldn’t question it.

His phone going off startled him, the default Apple iPhone tone, and he jumped slightly in his seat. **Unknown Caller,** it said, and Bill knew without answering it who it was. He just thought it was a little creepy that they had called him while he was looking at stuff for Brandon James. Trying to push past that thought, he reluctantly picked up the phone and swiped it to the right, answering the phone call and lifting the phone to his ear. “H-Hello?”

His own voice, obviously a recording, sounded in his ear. “‘I can make m-muh-my own choices.’” He scowled, irritation pulsing through him. He was so _sick_ of this person thinking they were in control of his life. “What’s y-your point?” He snapped into the phone, and the person on the other end just laughed.

 _“There he is. The new Bill Denbrough,”_ They said, and Bill clenched his free hand into a fist in his lap.

“I’m n-not your l-luh-little project.” Bill said into the phone, and the person laughed again.

_“Then who are you, really?”_

“How about the p-puh-person who kicks your a-ass?” Bill stood up, not able to just sit down any longer. He instead started to pace around his room, an old thing that his mom had taught him to do to release anger or nervousness.

 _“This game is just too damn fun.”_ The unknown caller answered, chuckling to themselves.

“My life is not a game.” Bill said, and wondered if he could get away with hanging up before they could respond. Then he thought of what had happened last time, and decided not to risk it.

 _“Yes, it is.”_ The person on the other end disagreed, and now, all of the humor had gone out of their tone. It sent chills back up Bill’s spine. _“And when I say it’s over, you lose.”_ At that, Bill decided to screw the consequences, and took the phone away from his ear, hanging up and just staring at it for a long moment. He tried not to notice the fact that his hands were shaking, and instead dialed another number.

“St-Stan?”

 

~*~

 

A knock on his window startled Eddie, and he looked over, brushing away the tears that had been previously falling down his cheeks. Richie’s familiar face stared at him through the other side, a cocky grin on his lips and his eyes showing concern underneath the amusement on top. Eddie sniffed, and couldn’t help the tiny smile that appeared on his face at the fact that Richie had climbed up here. He didn’t even have a tree by his window- he honestly didn’t know how Richie did it. He got up, walking over to the window and unlocking the window lock before sliding the window up. Richie ducked through, which was not a task easily accomplished considering his long legs, and when he had finally made it all the way through, Eddie saw that he also had a pizza box with him.

“I come bearing pepperoni pizza,” Richie said, and Eddie marveled at the fact that he was able to get up here without even dropping the pizza. He shut the window, and Richie plopped down on his bed, opening the pizza box. The fresh smell of pizza filled the air, and Eddie hummed with appreciation as he sat down across from Richie. “Your favorite!” Richie said cheerfully as he took out a slice, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“When I was six, maybe.” He said with an amused, soft smile. “Thanks, Richie.”

“No problem, Eds.” Richie said cheerfully, but Eddie noticed that he also kept his voice down- probably so that Eddie’s mom didn’t hear him. “So how did everything go today? You weren’t at school, so I was kind of worried,” Richie admitted, and Eddie picked up a slice of pizza, biting into it and chewing slowly.

“It didn’t go very well. She didn’t want me going to school and seeing you. And whenever I’m not with her, I’m not allowed out of my room, so that’s great.” Eddie said dryly. “She also took my phone so that I couldn’t call or text you. And she wanted to send me to a conversion camp again, but I managed to convince her not to. But…” he exhaled softly and looked down, picking at his pizza. “I’m going to start seeing a therapist. Starting Wednesday.”

“Oh, Eds…” Richie said softly, and Eddie gave a frustrated sigh.

“She thinks it’ll “help”. And that I need to be fixed.” He blinked rapidly to try and get the tears to go away before they could fall. Richie set down his pizza slice in the box and moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Eddie rested his head on Richie’s shoulder and just let the tears flow. They stayed in that position for a couple minutes, Eddie just crying softly, until he felt like he couldn’t anymore. “Fuck, Rich, sorry. I got your shirt wet,” Eddie murmured when he was done.

“It’s just water, Eds, I don’t care.” Richie murmured, hand moving up and down Eddie’s arm in a soothing manner.

“Okay,” he whispered, because that was all he had the strength to do. He felt a fresh wave of tears coming on, so he kept his face hidden in Richie’s shoulder. He knew that his mom could come in at any minute, but he couldn’t care less. She already knew that they were together, what else could she do?

“Listen to me,” Richie said, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “You’re not something that needs to be fixed, okay? You’re not broken. You’re perfect just the way you are. And yes, I’m aware that sounds cheesy as hell, but I don’t care. You deserve so much better than this.” Eddie looked up at him, and could tell that he really meant it. Love for Richie washed over him in a strong wave, and he buried himself back into Richie.

Richie hugged him tight for a second before pulling away just enough to look at Eddie’s face. Then he leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss. Eddie felt his anger and sadness wash away, at least momentarily, and he leaned into Richie with a soft sigh of gratitude. They stayed there for about another hour, eating pizza and talking, until the sun had gone down and it was time for Richie to go home, leaving Eddie with a peaceful mind for the first time that night and happy thoughts.

 

~*~

 

The Mayor stared down at the video that had been shared to him, swallowing hard. It had been sent by whoever was blackmailing him, a reminder that tomorrow he was to meet them. The video showed him checking the house to make sure his daughter, Brooke, wasn’t around. Then he went into the garage, opening up the trunk of his sleek, silver car. What was inside couldn’t be seen yet, but after a couple of grunts and grumbles, it was dragged out. And it looked suspiciously like a body, wrapped in a garbage bag and tied shut.

**_Unknown: Nobody needs to know._ **

 

~*~

 

Bill opened his eyes groggily, the sound of shuffling around waking him. The warm night air surrounded him like a blanket, thick and heavy with the Derry humidity, and he blinked sleepily to get the blurriness out of his gaze. Right across from him lay Stan, the older boy’s face turned up to the sky to look at the stars. The events of the night came back slowly, and Bill smiled slightly as he remembered what had happened after his called with the killer. He had called Stan, voice shaking as he explained what had happened. Stan’s voice was rather soothing, and Bill was glad that he wasn’t expected to have a plan ready for once. Stan, instead, had almost immediately known what to do to get Bill to calm down. “Look,” Stan had said into the phone, “I’ll be there in-”

_“-two minutes, okay?” Before Bill could protest because of how late it was getting, Stan had hung up. Bill had a feeling there was no convincing him otherwise, anyway. So he sat there and he waited, and true to his word, a couple minutes later Stan was there. Bill got up and jogged over his car, getting in._

_“Wh-where are we g-going?” Bill asked, and Stan just gave a secretive smile and started to drive. Instead of pressing it, Bill let himself think of all the possibilities of where they would be going and relaxed, turning on the music. Music filled the air, and Bill attempted to let his thoughts drift away so that he could listen to the music peacefully. Minutes later, the concrete road lead off into a dirt one, and Bill watched what was going on outside as he hummed and occasionally sang along to the song._

_Forest started to surround them, and by the time they got where they were going, Bill knew he would’ve been lost if not for the dirt road that led back the way that they came. Stan pulled to a stop, and when Bill glanced out the window, he could see a narrow pathway leading through the forest. Stan turned off the engine, and at Bill’s quizzical look, he just smiled and got out of the car. Bill got out as well, and from the trunk Stan grabbed a large blanket before shutting it and locking the car. “Let’s go.”_

_“Go wh-where, exactly?” Bill asked again, but Stan just gave a shrug and took Bill’s hand in his, leading him down the narrow pathway. They walked for about three minutes before Bill could see the pathway opening up, and up ahead he could see a clearing. Obviously, Stan had been here many times, because he spread the blanket out, looking completely at ease. Stan sat down in the middle and Bill sat beside him, watching as the sun started to go down. Pretty pinks, blues and purples filled the sky, streaking it different colors as their only light source fell away into the night._

_“I like it here,” Stan said into the silence, looking up and watching the sky. “It calms me down a lot whenever I need it, so I thought it would help for you, too. I like watching the sunset from here, because we’re far enough away from Derry that the stars shine a little bit brighter, you know?”_

_Bill couldn’t help but smile, nodding and looking up as well. “H-how did you even find th-this place?”_

_“My mom showed it to me a long time ago,” he hummed softly, and Bill looked away from the stars to glance at him. Stan didn’t seem to notice, gaze reflecting the pinpoints of light in the sky. Instead of saying anything, Bill just reached out and took Stan’s hand again, intertwining their fingers. Stan’s mom had left a little ways through 7th grade, just after Stan had been diagnosed with OCD. Though it was so long ago, Bill knew it still hurt Stan to think about. Then again, he guessed three years wasn’t very long. It just felt like it. “I come here to think about her, too,” he said after a moment._

_Bill squeezed Stan’s hand gently, thumb skimming lightly over the back. Though Stan didn’t acknowledge it directly, the faintest of smiles flickered over his face. “But that doesn’t matter right now,” Stan said, finally looking away from the stars and over at Bill. “Almost no one knows about this place. So whoever’s stalking you, they probably don’t know about it, so I thought this would be a good place to hide away for a little bit.”_

_“Th-thanks, Stan.” Bill mumbled, and Stan gave a nod. He leaned back, stretching out across the blanket, and Stan did the same, never letting go of Bill’s hand. Bill was thankful for that. So for about an hour, they stayed there, laying down on the blanket and just looking up at the stars. Occasionally, they would say something to each other, but not much. And after a little while Stan started to point out the constellations, talking about each and every one like there was nothing else that he’d rather be doing. Bill smiled to himself, just listening to the sound of Stan’s voice, and eventually, he fell asleep like that, listening to Stan talk and letting the peaceful moment get the best of him._


	22. Betrayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (1/24/18): Sorry I haven't been able to update recently guys, I've had at least four tests this week and haven't had time with all of the studying (my fourth one is tomorrow, and then I have a small quiz Friday. It sucks. But I should have an update tomorrow.) It's also been hectic because I'm transitioning into high school this year, and figuring out my classes, etc. has been kind of difficult. But tomorrow there will DEFINITELY be an update, because I've been working on it in spare time and almost have the full chapter finished :)

Bill stared at the old house, uncertainty in his gaze. Sure, when he had first thought of the idea, he thought it was perfect. Go in, face his fear, get out, and be fine again. Now the idea was starting to lose its appeal. But he was already here, and Stan stood beside him, gripping Bill’s hand. Something felt off about this place, and he knew that Stan felt it too, but neither of them said anything about it as they stared at the house like it was going to explode. They stood there for at least a minute, neither of them saying anything, before Stan finally spoke up. “You sure about this?”

“Y-yeah.” If Stan noticed Bill’s hesitation, he didn’t say anything. 

The house was the same one that Bill had been looking at two days before, except instead of a picture, this was real. It was more daunting in real life, somehow managing to stay standing even after years of not being used. Spray paint covered one side of the house, but the rest remained weirdly untouched. It looked a lot dingier in real life, and broken windows were there that hadn’t been broken in the picture. Otherwise, the house looked more or less habitable. Bill took a deep breath and grabbed his flashlight, the weight familiar and comforting in his hand. It was heavy enough to knock someone out if he swung hard enough, which was another thing that made him more relaxed than he usually would be. The other thing, of course, was Stan. Stan also had a flashlight, and a knife that they had brought just in case. It was small but sharp, and while Bill wasn’t sure how ready he would be to stab someone, he knew that if he came down to it he would be able to. Together, they walked up to the porch door. It was white and the windows were fully intact, but the lock was broken. Bill reached out and wrapped his hand around the door knob, and with a soft creak, the door opened easily.

The smell of musty air came out in a faint woosh, and Bill wrinkled his nose but ignored it for the most part, stepping inside. The old hardwood floor was dirty and scratched. Bill’s footsteps echoed in a quiet rhythm as he walked inside slowly, flashlight sweeping over the dark space.  On the outside, you could tell that it had once been a very nice house, two stories and spacious. The inside, though, had been torn apart, for what reason Bill didn’t know. The insulation on the walls had been torn out like someone had been about to renovate it, but had stopped halfway through. Countertops had been taken off and now rested against the wall, marble glinting against Bill and Stan’s flashlights. Tarps hung from door frames, obscuring other rooms from view. They were stained, some of them with dirt and mud, and some of them with what looked like blood. Bill decided he really didn’t want to know what it was. Most of the tables had been taken and were now gone, and most artifacts- if any had been left after the family had moved- had been stolen away. Except for one.

On a small bedside table, probably the only table that had been left, there sat a silver vase. It was wide at the bottom, and curved up shortly to a long and thin top, which then twisted to spread out like the petals of a flower from its stem. Rust covered it, but that wasn’t what had caught Bill’s eye. Inside of the vase was a very specific flower, not dead, but very much alive.

“A fresh daisy,” Stan breathed, and Bill thought that he took a small step closer to Bill. Bill examined the flower and tried not to look at shaken as he was.

“L-let’s just keep g-guh-going,” Bill said, and Stan gave a reluctant nod. Tarps covered most of the other door frames, except for one, so Bill walked over to that one and shined his flashlight through the single glass pane that took over the top half of the door. There were steps leading down, but after that it was complete darkness. He reached out and grasped the handle, but the door didn’t budge, so he put his shoulder against the door and shoved as hard as he could. The door gave way, and Bill would have tumbled down the steps if it hadn’t been for Stan grabbing his wrist and pulling him back at the last minute. He gave Stan a grateful smile and steadied himself. Then he descended into the darkness.

His flashlight beam travelled over every dusty thing in the room, but nothing stood out to him so far, so he kept walking down the stairs slowly. Honestly, he always hated walking down stairs like this, because he felt like someone was going to reach through and grab his ankles, yanking him off balance so that he would tumble down the stairs and into their clutches.

He really hoped that didn’t happen.

So when something brushed against his ankle, he shrieked in surprise and jumped the three stairs that were left, stumbling and nearly spraining an ankle as he whirled around to see what had touched him. A small spider dangled from its web from one of the stair banisters, legs moving in the air as it travelled slowly down, and Bill shuddered. He hated spiders, too. Moving past the eight-legged creature, he crouched down, examining everything with renewed interest. What looked like a hamster cage sat in the corner, and it smelled like it had never been cleaned out. Shadows danced across the room from a small window in the wall, highlighting dust particles floating through the air, and Bill tried hard not to sneeze as his gaze focused on a newspaper laying on the ground, yellowed from age. It wasn’t dusty, though, like someone had looked at it recently, even though the date was from 1994. **DERRY CHRONICLES** : **LAKEWOOD SLASHER KILLS 5 TEENS.** Bill’s breath shortened as he looked at it.

“Th-this is where it a-all started,” he whispered, feeling like it would be wrong to talk in a normal voice right now. But there was no response from behind him anyways. Bill turned around, and fear seized his chest as he realized Stan was gone. “St-Stan?” There was still no reply from anywhere, and Bill walked around timidly, searching for the curly-haired boy who was nowhere to be found. “Stan?” He called again, louder, and he contemplated calling out that this wasn’t funny, but he also knew that Stan wouldn’t joke about something like this. Paranoia started to creep in, and Bill wondered in the murderer was watching him right now. If they had taken Stan. So when his phone went off loudly in his pocket, it startled him so much that the flashlight fell out of his hands and clattered to the ground. Luckily for him, it didn’t turn off, though, and he was able to grab it again. With shaking hands, he answered the call.

 _“Hello, Bill,”_ the voice said tauntingly, and panic surged within him.

“Wh-what did you d-do?” He said, spinning around and trying to see if someone was watching him from within the shadows. He tried to make his voice come off strong and confident, but instead it sounded weak and scared.

_“Don’t you know?”_

“P-Please, don’t hurt him,” Bill said, gripping onto the phone and the flashlight so hard his knuckles were turning white, and he was sure his face was the same color.

 _“Oh, sweet, naive Bill. He even made you think it was your idea to come here.”_ The voice on the other end laughed, a mocking sound, and confusion filled Bill’s features. _Stan? No. That’s not… no._

His phone clattered to the ground, thoughts of staying here and conquering his fear forgotten. He ran up the stairs, barely managing to hold his flashlight steady enough to see where he was going. Desperately, Bill grabbed the door knob and yanked, but nothing happened. The door was locked, from the other side, and no matter how hard Bill yanked at it, it wouldn’t budge. _This can’t be happening. This can’t…_ a clatter from behind him made him jump, and he whirled around again, ready to swing with the flashlight if needed. _It’s not him, it’s not him…_ The masked figure stood before him, mouth open in a silent scream. They pushed Bill back against the door, and a flash of light reflecting made Bill perfectly aware that a knife was in the figure’s hands.

A strangled cry escaped his lips as the knife was shoved into his stomach. “Stan-!”

 

~*~

 

“So, I did some digging into Seth Branson,” Ben said, sitting on his bed with Beverly and Richie stretched out in some way on the bed, too. They had been talking about what Bev and Ben had found on Mr. Branson’s computer, and Richie had been particularly eager to throw himself into the topic, wanting a break with everything that had been going on with Sonia Kaspbrak. Eddie still hadn’t been allowed to come back to school yet (though Richie came up and saw him every night, usually with some assortment of food. Eddie complained that Richie was making him fat, Richie said he loved him no matter what he looked like, and the cycle went on and on). Eddie said he thought maybe next week he would be allowed back, which was fine by Richie, since he got to see him after school anyway.

“Let me guess,” Bev said, throwing a baseball up into the air and catching it just before it smashed into her face. She was laying with her back on Ben’s bed, face toward the ceiling, and was throwing the ball up above her. She claimed that the fun of it was knowing that if she didn’t catch it, it would probably break her nose from the sheer weight and force of it. “Seth Branson doesn’t exist?”

“Okay, let’s be real here. It’s 2018. I found four guys by the name of Seth Branson in the closest seven towns alone. But none of them were _our_ Mr. Branson.”

“How?” She said simply, and Ben shrugged.

“He just… isn’t. He didn’t exist until he moved to Lakewood, about a year or two ago. He changed his name. And you don’t change your name unless you’ve got a secret,” Ben finished, watching Bev uneasily as the ball got closer and closer to hitting her face each time she threw it. It was gonna be hard to explain to her dad how she got a broken nose in the middle of the night. 

“Like, for example, stalking teens through their webcam to find a victim?” Richie said, and Ben nodded grimly.

“Exactly.” Ben said in agreement.

“Cops turn themselves inside out looking for suspects, but… we could just be looking at our garden variety psychopath.” Bev sighed, and to Ben’s relief, caught the ball for the final time and sat up, playing with it in her hands as she thought. Her fiery red hair was a mess, and her mascara was smudged, but in the light (and all the time, if he was being honest) she looked gorgeous, without even trying. The soft smile that took over Ben’s face couldn’t be helped.

“Branson as Manson?” Ben said skeptically. “I don’t buy it.”

“Yeah, well, neither did the victims of the BTK Killer until they were staring down the business end of a boning knife.” Richie pointed out, and Bev nodded in agreement.

“I thought he was your favorite teacher,” Ben said, looking back and forth between them, and both Bev and Richie spoke at the same time.

“He is,” Richie said.

“That’s why the possibility is so alarming,” Beverly said at the same time, looking amused but not at all fazed at the fact that she and Richie spoke simultaneously.

“Maybe he was being manipulated by another psychopath. Greta.” Ben said, and Bev nodded slowly, mulling the idea over in her head as her fingers traced over the ball.

“Nina discovered his secret, and blackmailed him into planting the malware,” Bev said, going along with Ben’s theory. She sat up a little straighter, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. “But then… anyone she manipulated could have motive. The guys she slept with, the guys she didn’t… the girls that envied her… the ones who despised her.”

“Pretty long ass list,” Richie observed. “It has almost everyone on it.”

“Including us.”

 

~*~

 

“Detective Brock?” Sharon Denbrough knocked on the office door lightly, not looking intimidated in the slightest, unlike most of her coworkers whenever the detective had passed them in the hallways.

“Mrs. Denbrough-” the Detective started with a fake smile, but Sharon cut her off with a sugar sweet look.

“It’s Doctor, actually.”

“Okay,” Detective Brock said with a slight frown, but she didn’t say anything else about her attitude. “Come in, please, and shut the door behind you.” Sharon shot her an uncertain look- a shut door usually meant trouble in work- but did as she asked. The door shut with a soft click, and Sharon sat down. “Thank you for coming in.”

“Of course,” Sharon said, though she sounded like she would rather be anywhere else. “Though I’m not really sure why I’m here.”

“I have some questions about the Asher Murray case,” the Detective said shortly, and Sharon just waited, eyebrows raised. “It took a week to conclude that his death was suspicious,” Detective Brock stated, looking down at the folders even though she had already memorized what she needed to know. “Can you tell me why?”

“Well, his death was originally pegged as a suicide. But then we saw that his injuries didn’t correspond with what the crime scene presented.” She said, keeping it short and to the point. Detective Brock pressed on, undeterred.

“But by the time that you opened a murder investigation, two more kids were already dead.”

“That wasn’t his fault,” Sharon said immediately, referring to Sheriff Hudson. Detective Brock stood up, making her way around the desk so that she was face to face with Doctor Denbrough.

“Are you sure?” She said smoothly. “Because I think we both know that your opinion is a little biased.” At this, Sharon’s blood ran cold.

“Are you accusing me of something?” She said coldly, and the Detective just shrugged.

“Evidence was missed. Someone has to be held accountable.”

“Evidence? What evidence?” Sharon frowned, and Detective Brock shoved the folder into her hands almost triumphantly, a smug look on her face. Sharon hated it.

“We found hair fibers and skin cells at the hospital. DNA tests came in. Can you confirm the results?” Even as she asked the Doctor to confirm them, Detective Brock knew there was no way that Sharon could say no. They were clearly a match.

“They’re good for a match.” Sharon said grudgingly, and looked up at Detective Brock curiously. “Who is it?”

“Someone with clear motive, and opportunity. And, unfortunately, it’s a suspect that was right in front of you both this entire time.”

 

~*~

 

The classroom was quiet, the only noise was of kids talking amongst themselves as they figured out what to do for a scene. They were in Mr. Branson’s class, and Richie couldn’t help it- everytime he looked at Mr. Branson, all he could see was that stupid mask. Richie was so distracted by the thought that his teacher might be the killer, that he barely noticed at first when two armed police men walked into the classroom along with the principal.

Mr. Branson looked up in surprise, and now that Richie was looking for it, he could see the fear hidden underneath the surprise and concern in his gaze.

“Mr. Branson.” One of the men said, and said person straightened, gaze sharpening and leaving behind all emotion.

“Can I help you?” He asked calmly.

“Yes, sir, you can. We have some questions for one of your students.” Richie saw Mr. Branson relax, if only slightly, and couldn’t help the slight scowl that appeared on his face. So they weren’t here for him, after all. Maybe they were here for Henry or Patrick. It wouldn’t be the first time. He looked back down, and continued working on his scene by himself, since Eddie wasn’t there to help him out. He said he would be back in time for them to practice, so all Richie really needed to worry about was picking out a scene. But as the police officer kept talking, chills ran down his spine. He wasn’t here for Henry or Patrick, no. He was here for-

“Beverly Marsh? We’re gonna need you to come with us.” The man said out loud, and Richie’s gaze shot up to meet Bev’s startled one. _What the hell?_ She ran her fingers through her red hair and twisted one of the rings on her finger, getting up and grabbing her bag. She walked slowly towards the man, and as she was leaving the room, her gaze met with Richie’s once again. This time, Richie couldn’t read it.


	23. Villians

Stan could tell something was off with Bill the first time that he brushed against him in the morning, and Bill tensed as if Stan had been about to hit him or something. 

By the third time, he had had enough of pretending like it didn’t happen. He was starting to think he had done something wrong, but if he didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t fix it. So after third period, when lunch time rolled around, Stan grabbed Bill’s hand and pulled him off to the corner so that he could talk to him in private. He tried hard not to notice how Bill went stiff for a split second before relaxed and tightening his grip on Stan’s hand. As soon as they were safely out of hearing range of, well, everyone, Stan turned to face him. His hand wrapped around his own wrist behind his back, fingers pressing into it to keep himself calm and less nervous than he usually would be. 

“Did I do something?” He asked after a moment of Bill just staring at him quizzically. He noticed how Bill’s blue eyes slowly registered what Stan had said, and then flickered to the ground, mulling over what to say next. Stan waited anxiously for him to respond, and after a brief pause, he did.

“I h-had a dream…” He started slowly, and Stan blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting. Bill looked like he had more to say, so Stan kept his mouth shut, listening. “A-And you were th-there. It w-wuh-was the day after w-we spent the night in th-the forest. We went t-to the Brandon James h-house, and looked around a-at everything. Th-there was a fresh daisy, and w-wuh-we went downst-stairs. And th-then you were gone, and I-I called your name and y-you weren’t anywhere. A-And th-then  _ they _ called me…” At this, Stan felt himself stiffen as well, tilting his head but not saying a word. That was his way of encouraging Bill to continue without interrupting, which he knew that Bill hated. “Th-they said… they said that y-you ‘even convinced me it was my idea to come here’. I-I just… I freaked out, a-and I dropped my ph-phone, and then I ran up th-the stairs but the door wouldn’t open a-and it was  _ you,  _ Stan, you were th-the one who’s been doing th-this a-and-” Bill just kept talking, fear starting to flood back in waves from his dream even though he knew it wasn’t  _ really  _ Stan, there was no way. But just the thought of the dream made him want to curl up and hide. 

“Bill.” Stan cut him off gently, and this time when he grabbed Bill’s hands, Bill didn’t tense or pull away. He went still, shutting his mouth and looking up at Stan. “It’s not me, we both know it, right?” He said with a gentle smile, and Bill gave a quiet nod. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, I promise. Whoever this is- he’s not gonna hurt you, okay?” Bill gave another nod, and Stan could see him pull himself together and take a deep breath, turning back into the leader that Stan knew he was. He felt a glimmer of pride run through his chest, and the smile on his face grew. “Good. It was just a nightmare. Now let’s go back to the others, yeah?” 

“Y-yeah,” Bill said with a nod, and gripped onto Stan’s hand, leading the way back to where the others sat at a lunch table, talking amongst themselves. Richie was laughing, but behind the jokes that came out, Bill could see the worried crease on his forehead, the concern glittering in his dark gaze. It barely took a second for Bill to figure out why- Beverly was still gone, at the Sheriff’s office. Probably for questioning, Bill thought, since she had also been one of the only ones found at the hospital. 

Finally, about a minute after Stan and Bill sat down, Richie pushed the jokes aside, face growing serious. “What do you think the police want with Bev?” 

“Th-they probably want her f-for questioning,” Bill stated, turning an apple over in his fingers and then taking a bite. 

“No way. That’s a phone call, not a perp walk out of class.” Richie shot Bill down immediately, and Ben frowned, leaning over and murmuring something to Richie. 

“Care to share with the rest of the class, Benjamin?” Stan said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, and Ben rolled his eyes. 

“I said, Mr. Branson.” After a moment’s hesitation, he continued. “We found out that the webcam malware came from  _ his _ homework server. And, he’s using a fake name.”

Mike raised an eyebrow skeptically. “He brings his soup to school in a thermos. For some reason, I don’t think it’s him.”

“Villians have to eat too,” Richie defended Ben, fingers tapping, per usual, in a rhythm that only he understood against the desk. “Everyone needs the nutrients, especially when you’re-”

“Okay, c-can we focus f-for like, one minute?” Bill said, and gestured for Richie to get to the point, but Ben cut in first instead.

“Bev and I looked on his laptop, and I think Mr. B may have seen us. If he thought we could expose him… maybe he found a way to implicate Audrey as payback.” At the last part, Richie started to cough loudly, clearing his throat and gaze flickering above Bill’s head. Bill turned around, making a quiet, surprised noise as he saw Mr. Branson standing over them. 

“Ben, can I talk to you? It’s about your scene,” Mr. Branson said, giving a smile that was obviously fake. Bill felt something in his gut stir, similar to the feeling of fear from earlier.  _ Danger. _

All of the Losers looked over at Ben, but without seeming rude or like they knew something, there wasn’t really a way that Ben could refuse. “U-uh, sure,” he said nervously, and for a second he just stayed in his seat, before reluctantly getting up. He glanced back at them as he was led away, anxiety in his gaze.

 

~*~

 

Bev stared at the seat across from her, lost in her thoughts. So far, she had just been brought into an interrogation room. There was a huge mirror (one way glass, obviously) to her left, and a table that she currently sat at that was only a little bigger than a desk. Her blue eyes had already scanned and studied every part of the room, and now they just stared blankly at the red metal chair that sat empty a few feet away from her. She wondered who was going to come in to interrogate her, and if they called her father. It was probably a rule that they had to, so she definitely wasn’t looking forward to that, either.

The look on Richie and Ben’s faces as she left had stuck in her mind all the way there. Richie had looked shocked, and Ben had looked… pissed off? It wasn’t a look that normally was on his kind face, and she didn’t think she liked it very much. But the first thing that had happened when her name was called was that Ben looked over at Mr. Branson, and it looked like he was going to burn a hole through him with his gaze. Richie had looked straight at her, gaze startled and confused. She honestly didn’t know why she was there- but she had a feeling it definitely had to do with everything that happened at the hospital. 

The door opened so fast and so loudly that Bev jumped slightly in her seat, gaze shooting up to look at the Detective as she came in. “Beverly Marsh? We just have some questions that we need to ask you. Mostly about a certain death. I’m sure you were familiar with Asher?” The Detective said, but Bev could see right through the nice tone she was putting on. Instead of answering the semi-question, she sat up straighter. 

“So the murder investigation is finally happening?” Richie would be relieved, she knew, and she also knew that it would finally give him some peace over what had happened. At the Detective’s nod of confirmation, Bev exhaled.  _ Good. _

The Detective opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the door opened again, much more gently this time. Bev looked away from the Detective’s dark, inquiring gaze, and instead met eyes with Sheriff Hudson. “What’re you doing, Lorraine?” Sheriff Hudson said, and the Detective’s calm expression melted into a scowl. His tone was that of someone scolding a preschooler. “You’re not allowed to question minors without a guardian present, you know that.”

“And you know that you have no authority here.” Detective Brock shot back, but Sheriff Hudson didn’t turn to leave.

“Well, I called Beverly’s father. He’s on his way.” The Sheriff said smoothly, and dread twisted through Bev’s stomach. “So I’ll just wait here with her until he arrives.” Bev knew that the Sheriff had thought he was just helping her by calling her father, but she felt frustration surge through her. They were going to tell her father everything. She wouldn’t be allowed out of the house for a month at least, and… and probably worse.  _ Shit. _

 

~*~

 

About an hour later, her father showed up, and though a false expression of kindness and concern were in his gaze, she knew she was in for it by the hard set of his jaw. “Beverly?” He asked, and she hated the sugar sweet tone that he used around her in public. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she said with a tight smile, and he nodded.  _ But I’m not about to be.  _

“Sheriff, what’s this about? Is my daughter under arrest?”Al Marsh said, completely ignoring the Detective. Bev could see the annoyance in her gaze as soon as that happened. 

“No, Al, we just need to-” Sheriff Hudson started, but Detective Brock cut him off.

“ _ I  _ just need to clarify some things about what went on with Beverly and her friends at that abandoned hospital,” she said with a polite smile.  _ Shit. He didn’t need to know about that. Shit, shit, shit.  _ Al glanced at her, and it didn’t even take her a second to realize that his hands were in his pockets to hide his clenched fists.

“Of course,” he said slowly, as if forcing the words out. “We have nothing to hide.”

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Detective Brock started in again as Sheriff Hudson scowled disdainfully. “In the hospital. You and your friends found a decomposing head with a mask on it.” She said, watching Beverly’s face to look for a reaction. Bev made sure she didn’t give her one. “Did you pick it up?”

“God, no,” Bev said with disgust. It was technically true- Richie had been the one to touch it in the first place, and he just bumped it. The head had fallen down, Richie hadn’t picked it up. 

“Are you sure?” Detective Brock asked, disbelief in her voice. 

“We were kind of busy running in terror. So yeah, I’m sure.” Bev said coldly, and felt her father’s foot connect with a leg of her chair, jolting her just a little but not enough to be noticed by either the Detective or the Sheriff. He was warning her. The Detective’s fast lost all of it’s kindness, and she leaned forward, scowling again. 

“Then help me understand something.” She reached down into the box she had brought with her, and Bev watched her anxiously, hands clasped in her lap. There was a brief pause, and then the Detective found what she was looking for (Bev was sure it was for dramatic effect, because the box seemed to be otherwise empty) and set it on the table. The Brandon James mask. 

“Why is your DNA on the inside of this mask?”

 

~*~

 

Richie had been sitting outside for the better part of an hour now, and he was starting to think that maybe Eddie wasn’t home. Maybe his mother had taken him out somewhere, maybe to get new meds, he didn’t know. But no matter how many times he knocked on Eddie’s window, Eddie wouldn’t open up, So either he wasn’t there, or he was ignoring Richie- or his mother had found out that Richie had been getting in through the window. And Richie had a sneaking suspicion that the last one was the case. So after about 45 minutes of waiting, he was about to give up and go home when his phone chimed. It broke the peaceful silence so suddenly that he just about fell off the roof from surprise, which would have been really bad. He pulled out his phone, leaning against Eddie’s window again and clicking on the text message. 

**_Eds <3: Hey I got my phone back_ **

_ Rich: really?? How?? _

**_Eds <3: Basically I just told her that the least she could do for me is let me talk to my friends if she was going to send my to therapy. There were lots of tears, but she agreed. & I’ll be back to school tomorrow_ **

_ Rich: you’re still allowed to talk to me?? i thought for sure she’d take that away _

**_Eds <3: Actually, she did. I’ll just delete the messages every night before she takes my phone to check it._ **

_ Rich: fine by me. as long as i get to talk to my dear eddie spaghetti _

**_Eds <3: You’re actually going to be the death of me_ **

_ Rich: yeah, but u love me :) where r u?? _

**_Eds <3: On my way to therapy now, actually, it’s not in Derry & it’s a long drive :// _ **

_ Rich: ugh. tell them they can take their opinion and shove it up their ass for me, will u?? _

**_Eds <3: My mom would actually kill me, but otherwise I would totally do it_ **

**_Eds <3: I gtg now, we’re here_ **

**_Eds <3: I’ll tell you how it went in about an hour_ **

_ Rich: good luck <3 _

Richie sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket and making his way back down off the roof of the first story. When he was finally back on the ground, he grabbed his bike (safely stowed under the porch where Sonia would never go, because of too many “diseases” or whatever) and climbed onto it, biking back to his own house and waiting for Eddie to tell him how it went. And he hoped to god that this wouldn’t screw with Eddie’s head too much, the therapy. But he had a feeling that it would happen anyway.


	24. What Did You Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie sees a side of Bev he’s never seen before.

 

Mike leaned against the row of lockers, waiting impatiently for Ben to come out from Mr. Branson’s room. It had only been about 10 minutes, but lunch had ended already and Ben still wasn’t back yet. Richie had left school, murmuring something about going to check on Eddie before he was gone, and neither Bev nor Ben had come back yet, so it was down to three. Bill and Stan had gone off to a different class when the bell had rung, and Mike had gone to make sure that Ben was okay. No word so far.

The door opened suddenly, and Mike stopped leaning against the lockers, going to Ben. “Ben? What happened?” 

“Henry the Fifth and Napoleon dynamite.” Ben nodded, looking kind of amused. “That’s it. He didn’t murder me or anything. Maybe we’re wrong.” He said, and Mike raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he’s not a psychopath. If Victor loaded the malware for Greta while he was the student aid, Mr. B could just be his innocent pawn.” Ben said, and Mike refrained from saying  _ told you so.  _

“What about his fake name?” Mike said, and Ben shrugged.

“Actually, I think I’ve got that covered. I asked Mr. B to put his number into my phone, in case I need to ask him anything about monologues, and programmed this app on my phone to record his fingerprints.” He said casually, like it wasn’t a very big deal. Mike shook his head, smiling slightly to himself. 

“Nice. So that means…?”

Ben nodded before Mike could even finish his sentence. “We can see if Mr. B is actually guilty.” 

 

~*~

 

“Bev?” Richie said in confusion into the phone, and heard her sigh in relief on the other line. 

“Richie, thank god. Look, the police called my dad-” at this, Richie sucked in a sharp breath, and she muttered a grim, “I know. But that’s not the point. I overheard them talking in the hallway- she’s got a warrant to search my house, and they’re going after you next, because you were close to Ash. So that means-”

“The SD card,” Richie breathed, and finally the thoughts about Eddie that had been distracting him washed away with the danger of the situation. 

“You need to destroy it,” Bev said quietly. “Before they find it. Because it’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant for you, too. Look, she’s coming back and I gotta go. Richie?” There was a brief pause, and then she murmured softly. “Don’t get caught.”

~*~

Henry dug through his gym bag frantically, swearing under his breath. The only thing that was in there was clothes, and he knew exactly where it went- it more like who it went with. There was still nothing there- no matter where he looked, it was gone.  _ “Dammit.”  _ He all but shouted, slamming his fist into the locker and breathing heavily. The gym locker dented under the force, just slightly, and he pulled his fist back and then hit the gray metal material again and again until there was a dent bigger than a baseball in it. Then he turned, talking along the halls until he came upon where the weight lifting equipment was. Fellow students parted like the Red Sea around him, something that he was used to by now, and thankful for. It got him places much faster.

Patrick was inside the weight lifting room, lifting up weights that seemed just a tad bit too heavy for him. He was obviously struggling, but as Bill watched, he somehow managed to get them up and down without dropping them onto himself. Henry walked inside slowly, shutting the door behind him with a thud. Patrick couldn’t look up and risk dropping the weights on himself, so instead he stayed silent, assuming that whoever it was would either leave soon or be no problem to him. 

He assumed wrong. 

As soon as Henry came into view, Patrick’s gaze turned panicked, and then emotionless. It was so fast that Henry didn’t catch it, but he didn’t really need to to know that Patrick was guilty of taking his phone. He put a hand on the weights that Patrick had still been lifting, and pressed down slightly. Patrick let out a strained puff of air as he now fought to keep the heavy weights from falling on him. “Wh-what the-”

“Where’s the phone and the money, Patrick?” Henry said coldly, and Patrick breathed hard as he tried to keep his arms from giving out under him. Henry pressed down harder. 

“How… the hell... would I know..?” Patrick huffed out, giving a small grunt of effort. Sweat shone on his forehead and his palms were sweaty, Henry could tell, because the slipped and slid just a little on the cool, smooth metal. Henry towered over him, and this time, Patrick couldn’t stop the fear that showed in his gaze. He pressed down even harder, and the metal bar of the weights was not even centimeters away from his chest- it was almost touching it. Henry scowled down at him, gaze dark and threatening. 

“Well, let me tell you something, Hockstetter,” Henry snapped angrily, eyes stormy. “If you try and burn me with that video, they’ll find you in pieces in a ditch.” Finally, Henry released Patrick’s weights, turning and walking out without even seeing if Patrick could get the weights back off himself, slamming the door behind him.

 

~*~

 

Richie turned the SD card over in his hands absentmindedly.  _ Destroy it.  _ Bev’s words rang in his ears, but he couldn’t help it. He was curious. Bev had given him the card the night of Greta’s murder (was this how they were destined to document the days for the time being? By how long it was from the murders?) and had told him to hide the card, and not to watch it. He had obliged, of course, because what were friends for? But now that she had been taken in, he thought it was kind of weird that she wanted him to just destroy the card. He knew that by watching the video he would be betraying her trust, but he also knew that he had to take everything into account. Even this mysterious video that she wanted gone. 

So he put the SD card in and pulled up everything on his screen, before pausing. Did he really want to know what was on the card? But it didn’t even take him a moment’s thought before deciding yes and hitting the play button. 

_ “Stop filming me.”  _ The camera was trained on Beverly’s face, as she sat in what Richie recognized as the front seat of Ben’s car. Her voice was angry, and so was… well, everything about her. She was obviously pissed off and furious, and Richie knew exactly why. That had also been the night that Greta had posted the video of him and Ash- Bev was probably mad on his behalf. 

_ “No.”  _ Now Ben’s voice filtered in from behind the camera, and Richie figured it out pretty easily that it was Ben holding the camera.  _ “You need to see yourself. You don’t even know if Greta did this-” _

_ “Of course she did this!”  _ Bev snapped, and Richie blinked. It was nice to see someone get protective over him- that meant that they cared- but he had never seen Bev this angry, and had never seen her use that tone with Ben, even if it wasn’t because of something  _ he  _ did or even something related to him.  _ “She has been torturing Richie and I for our entire lives. Not anymore!”  _ The last part came out as an angry snarl, something that Richie wasn’t even aware Bev could do. 

_ “If we do this, we’re even worse than Greta,”  _ Ben said, and worry crept into Richie’s mind.  _ Do what? _

_ “So what? I’m supposed to just keep taking it? Screw that!”  _ Bev said, scowling angrily. Richie was suddenly really glad that Bev was his friend and not his enemy.  _ “People like Greta dump on  _ everyone,  _ and you know what happens to them?  _ Nothing.  _ They marry billionaires and wear Prada on their environment-trashing yachts because  _ **_karma doesn’t just happen!_ ** _ Sometimes you have to take it into your own hands. When I’m done, she’ll never bully anyone again.”  _ She finished, starting up the truck and gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white.

_ “Bev, please-”  _ Ben started, but Bev turned her glare onto the camera. 

_ “I said turn that off!”  _ At that, the screen went black. Richie gaped at the screen in surprise, eyes comically wide. 

“Bev, what did you do?” He whispered.


	25. Kidnapped

Bill stared across the room, deep in thought about everything that had been going on recently. He was at home now, school over, and yet there was still no word from Bev. Richie was unusually quiet in the group chat, and Eddie still hadn’t been heard from yet, though Richie confirmed that he now had his phone. Bill assumed that he was still at therapy. 

His bedroom door opened with a soft click, and he looked up to see his mom walking in. Despite the fights that they had had just a few days ago, they had grown close once again, and Bill sat up curiously. “What’re you doing?” His mom asked gently, giving a small smile, and Bill gave a hesitant one back. 

“J-just thinking. About everyth-thing.” Bill said, voice soft. 

“I know you’re worried about Bev,” She said gently, and Bill glanced up at her, chewing on his bottom lip. She was right. “We all care about her, Bill. We’ll get to the truth, I promise.” Instead of comforting him, though, the words made him more nervous. He voiced his thoughts, fingers squeezed together tightly to form a fist and shoved into his lap to hide the scared thoughts running through his mind. 

“Wh-what if the truth is th-that my friend is c-capable of m-muh-murder?” As soon as the words were out, guilt flooded through him. He felt bad for even thinking it, but… did he really know Beverly as well as he thought he did? He had missed out on the past two years of her life. Granted, that was his fault, but that wasn’t the point right now. The point was… what if she  _ had  _ done it? What if the police had arrested her for real and she wasn’t coming back?

Instead of responding to the question, his mother stood there for a second, thinking, before saying, “Grab your jacket.” 

 

~*~

 

Bill could see why his mom had told him to grab his jacket- fall was already starting to set in, and while it was still warm, there was a slight chill in the air. Faint, but there. As he got out of the car he felt it, and slid on his blue jacket, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked around at where they were.

It was an old house, abandoned now. It kind of reminded him of Brandon’s, but it wasn’t graffitied and no windows were broken. It just looked like a hollow shell of an old home. There was a two story house that was still kind of small, and it was made of brick with a brown roof. It was completely dark inside, and the grass around it was slightly overgrown. The driveway wasn’t pavement, but instead was gravel rocks that had crunched under the weight of the car as they pulled in. There was an attachment to the side of the house, the garage, and it still looked like it was in pretty good shape. Even though it had been years since it’s last use, there was a well worn path in the grass leading up to the back door, from years and years before of kids and adults walking in and out.

“Wh-where are we?” Bill asked in confusion, and Sharon gave a bittersweet smile. 

“My nana’s house. From before the murders.” She said, inspecting the house as well as she could in the darkening light, even though she already knew it like the back of her hand. She could remember seemingly endless days of fun here, the sun shining and laughter as she played with her friends. She shook herself out of her thoughts, turning back to Bill. “You wanted answers about what happened that night? Here they are.”

“Wh-why didn’t you ever m-muh-mention this place b-before?” Bill asked in confusion, glancing away from the house momentarily to look at her. Sharon gave a small shrug, scuffing at the gravel with her foot for a brief second. “After the killings, the press wouldn’t let the story die,” she said finally. “So we had to move away until things settled down.”

“So th-that they wouldn’t figure o-out that you’re D-Duh-Daisy.” Bill caught on quickly, and Sharon nodded in agreement. Bill turned his gaze back to the house as Sharon started to point out things, changing the subject. She pointed to the far right window, smiling a little bit to herself as she remembered things. 

“That was my room. And back there…” She pointed behind the house, where Bill could just barely see a small, grassy clearing which was otherwise surrounded by trees. There was a small pathway through the trees, and Bill caught a glimpse of Brandon’s house. He gave a small shiver that didn’t have anything to do with wind chill. “That’s where my swingset was.” There was another small pause, and Sharon sighed heavily. “This is where it began.” 

“Wh-where what began?” Bill said gently, not wanting to push her, but she seemed fine anyway. 

“Brandon.” She said, and gestured for Bill to follow her as she made her way to the back of the house. She glanced through the trees, and Bill looked after her, though he really didn’t want to. He’d already seen enough of that house, and he’d never even been there in person before. Just online and… and in that stupid dream. “And there was a basement there, yeah, but Bran didn’t live in it.” She said simply, but Bill caught her small slip up.

“B-Bran?”

Sharon nodded slowly, another quiet smile on her face, but this time it was also a sad one. “He’s was so… shy. And I was curious. He used to leave me gifts- carvings, drawings of me.” Bill took in this information with curiosity, watching her closely. “I wrote him notes,” she went on. “I think we were just happy to have someone listen. He wasn’t a monster.” This time when she sighed, it was sad. Upset. Upset at the world for making Brandon seem like something he wasn’t. “He was my friend. We grew up together.” 

“But in high school…” His mom looked down, one hand twisting her wedding ring on her finger. “He knew that your dad and I were having problems. He came into the dance that night to convince me that I deserve better, and a friend of mine overheard and told your dad. That’s when the fights started. And the bloodshed.” Bill sucked in a soft breath. 

“Th-there was no way th-that you could have kn-known that he would sn-snap.” He said, trying to console her, but she shook her head, gaze hardening slightly.

“I’m not convinced he did.”

“B-But… everybody said that that w-was-”

“I know,” she cut him off. “But I didn’t think so. So I left a note, telling him to meet me by the dock. My dad saw me, and called the police.” She paused, and Bill could see the tears glimmering in her eyes. He felt bad, and considered telling her to stop just so that she didn’t have to relive anything that painful, but she continued on before he could say a word. “I just wanted to talk to him. When Bran showed up, he was so scared…” she breathed softly, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. “And then they shot him.” Bill could see that her hands were shaking, and held back the urge to hug her and tell her to stop once again. She seemed like she needed to get this out now. “I’ve always felt like… like if I had stood up for him, told them that the person that I knew wouldn’t have done those things… he’d still be alive.”

“Wh-why are you t-tuh-telling me all of this now?” Bill asked, and his mom looked up at him.

“I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.” She said quietly. “People saw Brandon as a monster, and… and I didn’t defend him. If you believe in your heart that Beverly couldn’t do this, you listen to that. Or you’ll always regret it.” 

 

~*~

 

“Lorraine?” Sheriff Hudson said, and Detective Brock turned around, a scowl on her face. 

“Hudson, why are you still here?” She said in annoyance, and he rolled his eyes.

“Someone wants to see you.” Richie Tozier walked into the office after him, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but other than that, she gave nothing away. 

“Okay. Let’s go.” Together, she and Richie walked into her office, and she shut the door behind him. “Have a seat, Mr. Tozier.” She said calmly, and Richie did so, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his leg absentmindedly. “Do you have something you need to tell me?” She asked, and Richie nodded hesitantly. 

“Bev hated Greta Bowie,” he said, forcing his fingers to still and straightening his back to look more calm on the outside. On the inside, he was hoping that this worked. “She wanted to teach her a lesson. She wanted to hurt her.”

“You do realize this is going on the record?” Detective Brock stopped Richie, and he gave a nod, face showing no expression. 

“I hope so. Because she didn’t do it. I stopped her.” 

“You stopped her?” Detective Brock said, and Richie gave a nod of confirmation. “She didn’t mention seeing you.”

“That’s because she was covering for me,” Richie responded smoothly, and Lorraine arched an eyebrow. 

“Covering for you. And why would she do that?” 

“Well, that night, I was going to go to Greta’s house. I wanted to prank her, you know, egg her house and stuff like that instead of doing physical harm. And so I went over there to do it, but I saw blood. Instead of going to check it out, I ran. Once the police investigation popped up, she knew that if they knew about that then they would think I was the murderer because I was there. Bev was in the car in the car the whole time, waiting for me. She wasn’t even within 10 feet of Greta’s body, I swear.”

There was a long silence, and while the Detective didn’t look all too happy about it, there was really nothing she could say about it being incorrect without being biased. “Would you be willing to sign an affidavit on that?”

“Of course,” Richie said, relaxing slightly when he realized that they believed him. It was a lie, of course- Richie had never gone to prank Greta’s house or anything- but they didn’t need to know that. He was doing whatever he could to protect Bev here, because he knew there was no way that she did this. 

“Alright.” Detective Brock said unhappily. “I will make a call.” 

 

~*~

 

**Same day, 11:43 PM**

_ Trashmouth: hey _

**_Bev: i can’t believe u did that_ **

_ Trashmouth: what are best friends for?? there’s no way i’m gonna let you go to prison, who else is going to help me catch this psychopath?? _

**_Bev: did u watch it?_ **

_ Trashmouth: straight to the point i see _

_ Trashmouth: yes _

_ Trashmouth: why did u keep it? _

**_Bev: what u didn’t see is that right after, Ben took my keys and threw them out the car window. I was so angry, I was searching the bushes like a lunatic, but… he kept me from doing something terrible that night._ **

**_Bev: i kept it to remind myself never to lose control like that again._ **

 

~*~

 

Stan opened his eyes groggily, pain throbbing in his head and his chest feeling like it was on fire. Duct tape covered his mouth, making it hard for him to breathe, and his hands were tied with the forearms exposed. His legs were also bound together and he couldn’t move, and confusion laced with fear made his head pound even more. Cleaning supplies and the smell of must surrounded him, telling him that he was most likely in a janitor’s closet, and somewhere old. Maybe the abandoned hospital?  _ What happened?  _ He thought, barely able to think straight. The last thing that he remembered was going out into the forest with Nancy to do an interview for _Autopsy of a Crime_ , and how she gave a shriek of fear. He hard turned around, and…

_ Oh, god. _

The killer had been there behind him, wearing the mask frozen in a silent scream. He had tried to move back, but he hadn’t been fast enough, and the blade that the killer was carrying caught him across the chest. He could feel the wound, still there, and he hoped that it wasn’t that deep. Because if it was and no one found him soon…

Nancy had been knocked to the ground, and her head had collided with a rock hard enough that she had went limp, hopefully just unconscious and not much worse. Hopefully, she wasn’t here too. Terror raced through him, and he wished that Bill would burst through that door, having already called 911 and ready to save Stan, like he had in the park.

Instead, when the door opened, in stepped the cloaked figure with the mask.


	26. No Cops, Bill

“There’s my little felon,” Richie said cheerfully, and Bev could see that underneath his hawaiian shirt there was a shirt that said **FREE BEVERLY** on it. Bev wondered when he’d had time to make it, rolling her eyes.

“So glad my ordeal brought you such amusement,” she said dryly, and Richie laughed.

“It would’ve got me cold hard cash selling these bad boys,” he gestured to his shirt, “but I decided to be generous and get you released early.” He grinned, and then it faded slightly into a small smile. “I’m really glad you’re back. And, you know, not a demented psychopath.”

“The jury’s still out on that one,” Bev said jokingly, and Richie chuckled in agreement. “But anyway, I’d still be in there if it wasn’t for you. So thanks.” She said, and Richie just nodded.

“Any problems with your dad?” He asked nervously, and almost immediately Bev’s gaze travelled to the ground, and she looked ten times more tired. She gave a small shrug.

“He’s just pissed off. He thinks I told them something about… well, you know.”

“Anything else?” Richie asked, voice softer than most people have ever heard it, a tone that he only used with Bev right after a particularly bad night with her father. She glanced up at him, and concern showed in his warm, brown gaze. She leaned back against the wall, in a small corner, and out of view from most people. Then she rolled up her sleeve, and a bruise in the shape of a handprint swallowed her wrist. There was also a faint one on her cheekbone that Richie could see, but only if he focused on it. Then she lifted up her shirt where her hip was, too- just a little bit- but it was enough for Richie to see more bruises across there. Bev watched the fury and helplessness gather in his gaze, two mixed emotions that were always there anytime Bev confessed something about her father to him that he didn’t know before, or she showed him anything he’d done recently. Fury, because, well… that one didn’t need explaining. And helplessness because he couldn’t _do_ anything about it. Bev couldn’t come live with him, not legally. And calling the police had only resulted in Bev getting even more hurt, because as Richie had said multiple times, Derry had a shitty police force. The police hadn’t looked into it very well, and at the time, there was no physical evidence. Only bruises that were in easy places to get them from doing things like falling down the stairs or bumping into a table. If he was being honest, he would have been surprised if they had even interrogated Al. The most they did was ask him a few questions and leave.

So the most that he could do was give Bev all of the love that she deserved, and that her father had never given her. And so he did that whenever he could, reminding her as much as possible how beautiful, smart, passionate, amazing, wonderful she is. Ben did the same thing and more. And though it was small, Richie could see that it helped.

“Oh, Bev,” he said softly, and Bev swallowed hard, moving forward and burying herself into Richie’s chest. He hugged her tightly, shutting his eyes and holding on like he would never let go. She relaxed into him, trembling just slightly, the only moment of weakness she would allow herself to have in public. Later that night, she knew that Richie would sneak into her window and just listen to her talk about it, and reassure her over and over again how much he loved and appreciated her. Richie rested his chin on Bev’s head, just holding her tight for another long minute before finally releasing her as the warning bell rang. She gave a small sniff, and then straightened her back and ran her fingers through her hair, collecting her thoughts.

“So what did I miss?” She asked. “And I don’t mean school. Obviously.”

“Eddie comes back today.” Richie said, and despite everything that had just happened, she gave a smile. “Besides that, I’ve been digging more into Mr. Branson. Well, by ‘I’ I mean Ben. He tried running a fingerprint but got nothing, so no priors.”

“So maybe it’s time to report his ass for the malware,” she said as they started to walk, and Richie shook his head.

“It would be, _if_ it was still active. But someone scrubbed it. Peep show’s closed.” At this, Bev shoved him slightly, though she looked kind of amused. “It’s almost like it never existed.” Richie went on. As they neared Mr. Branson’s classroom, Bev peeked in, and withdrew almost immediately.

“ _And_ he’s got a sub today.” She said, glancing over at Richie. She saw a familiar grin on his face, but before she could say _don’t you dare-_

“The _sub_ -plot thickens,” Richie said, and she rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You get it? _Sub_ pl-?”

“Yes, Rich, I get it, let’s go.” And while her tone was annoyed, her eyes twinkled, showing that even though she’d only been gone a day, she had definitely missed his jokes.

 

~*~

 

“Hey, h-have either of you s-seen Stan?” Bill asked as he walked up to Ben and Mike, and they both shook their heads and confusion.

“No, not since last night,” Mike said, tilting his head. “Why?”

“He t-texted me last n-nuh-night to meet h-him at th-this clearing, b-but he never showed up.” Bill said with a frown. “I-It’s not like St-Stan to blow m-muh-me off.”

“I think he said that he was going somewhere with-” Ben started, but was cut off as Nancy Wheeler ran up to him in the hall, looking slightly panicked.

“Bill? We need to talk.”

 

~*~

 

Bill, Mike, and Ben followed Nancy as she led them through the forest and to the clearing. It was the same one that Stan had taken Bill a couple nights ago, and he remembered the night with a fond smile that quickly dropped as he saw blood spatters on the ground.

“This is where we were,” Nancy said quietly, looking nervously around at the trees. “I asked Stan to do an interview for _Autopsy of a Crime_ , to give me kind of a teen’s point of view on the murders and everything. We were talking, and then… and then that masked freak showed up out of nowhere. I screamed, and Stan turned, and… well, I don’t remember the rest. I fell and hit my head on that rock-” she pointed to one, and Bill could see blood on a particularly pointed edge, “and blacked out. When I came to, my head was pounding, Stan was gone, and I found this.” She gestured to it, but Bill didn’t need to. It was the first thing that he had seen when he got there.

Across the grass, in still drying blood (it looked like a lot, which made Bill sick to his stomach) there were the words **NO COPS, BILL.** Bill wondered if it was Stan’s blood, and while he knew it probably was, he sincerely hoped it wasn’t.

Nancy suddenly gave a soft groan, touching her head and shutting her eyes quietly. Ben glanced up at her. “You okay?” he asked, and Nancy nodded.

“It’s just a mild concussion, I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t y-you guys t-tuh-take her back to the car?” Bill said gently, and Mike stared at him like he was insane.

“You do realize that’s like, the #1 cause of death in horror movies, right?”

“Bill, he’s right, I mean…” Ben started uneasily, but Bill waved them off dismissively.

“I’ll m-meet you guys out there, I pr-promise. I just… I n-need to think. And be alone. One m-muh-minute, that’s all I ask.” At his words, the three of them reluctantly started back down the trail, disappearing into the forest a second later. Bill stared at the blood, mind whirling. His phone went off almost immediately after the other three disappeared, and he flinched hard, picking up the phone immediately. “H-Hello?”

 _“Bill? Bill, help m-”_ Stan’s voice said from the other end of the phone, and Bill squeezed his hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm from the panic that was starting to rush through him.

“Stan?” He said frantically. “Stan? A-Are you o-okay?”

Instead of Stan’s voice, though, out came the killer’s. _“Hello, Bill. Missing something?”_

“You son of a bitch.” Anger raced through him, mixing along with the panic and fear. _“Wh-where is he?!”_

 _“Let’s just say, he’s not able to come to the phone right now.”_ Bill’s heart dropped- what if earlier had just been a recording? What if…

“Oh god, is he dead?” He whispered into the phone, and the voice on the other end laughed.

_“Now what would be the fun in that?”_

_Okay. Okay, he’s not dead. So calm down and think._ “Please don’t hurt him.” It was like all he could do was either whisper or shout. He couldn’t talk in a normal voice, he didn’t seem capable of doing it, and he sure as hell didn’t want to shout either. He didn’t wanna piss this person off and make them kill Stan. “Wh-what do you want f-from me?”

_“New game. Hide and Seek. Like Daisy and Brandon used to play.”_

“O-Okay. My mom told m-muh-e all about Daisy and Br-Brandon.” Bill said, and Bill felt the sharp sting of his nails breaking through the skin on his palm as he squeezed harder.

 _“Your mom’s a lying whore!”_ Bill jumped at the ferocity in their tone. _“But in time, you’ll know the truth. But first, you better find Stan.”_ Then, on the other end came Stan’s voice again, sounding hoarse and raw. He had probably been yelling or shouting before that, and raw fear was prominent as he started shouting again, desperate. _“Bill, please- no! No!”_ And then it cut off. Bill took the phone away from his ear slowly, shaking with both fear and anger. Whoever this was, they weren’t taking Stan from him, not again.

 

~*~

 

Ben typed rapidly on his computer, hacking his way into the GPS system. Bill had come back from the clearing and had told him they need to get to Richie’s store as soon as possible. By now, school would be over, which means that Richie would be at work. They had spent a couple hours in the forest, searching, but had eventually come up with nothing. Once they had dropped Nancy off, they had gone straight to the old store. Richie had closed the store early, and now they had the whole place to themselves. All of them were there, and watched as Ben hacked his way into Stan’s GPS. Whoever was doing this had called from Stan’s phone, probably on purpose to create a trap, but Bill didn’t care.

“DRADIS contact,” Ben finally said, and Bill tilted his head in confusion. “I’ve got the phone.”

“I-I don’t see a-anything,” Bill said, and Ben hit a button- immediately, the screen zoomed out to a map, and a flashing dot appeared over where the phone was.

“Some place out past the crossroads,” Ben murmured.

“I-I’m going,” Bill said immediately, standing up, and Ben’s gaze shot up to look at him.

“And we’re all coming with you,” Bev said firmly, but Bill shook his head.

“Guys, n-no. Th-this guy is playing s-sick games. I can’t ask y-you guys to come.” Bill said, but Bev glared at him fiercely, and he could tell that she would not let this one go.

“You don’t have to. We’ve got your back. And Stan’s.”

“Great!” Richie said cheerfully. “Let’s go save Stan the Man.”


	27. The Bowling Alley

Getting in was a lot harder than any of them imagined, and the old, rotting board still apparently had enough strength to keep them from pulling it off. Bill knew there must have been a different entrance- the murderer would have to carry Stan in, and even if Stan had been unconscious, it would have been hard enough without having to pull off a bunch of wooden boards and put them back on again, but they had searched most of the area and couldn’t find one. So instead they stood there, yanking at the rotting old board, even though it refused to give.

“Spotty cell signal, but this is definitely the area,” Ben said as they all stared at the board covering the door, as if that would make it open.

“Okay. Creepy building, psycho killer?” Richie said, and Bill thought that he was going to back out, but instead he pulled off his backpack. “Time to weapon up. I got a skinner and a gut hook.” 

“Wh-why do you have th-those, exactly?” Bill raised his eyebrows, and Richie wiggled his eyebrows at him and made a mysterious expression appear on his face.

“To skin and gut things, obviously,” he said when he saw Bill looked very unimpressed. 

“We need to find a different way to get in,” Bev said, leaning against a rusted old pole. 

“O-Okay. Me, Ben, and M-Muh-Mike go around th-there while Richie, Eddie and B-Bev go th-the other way, and w-wuh-we’ll meet you around b-back.” Bill said, gesturing to the opposite ends of the building, but Ben shook his head, eyes wide.

“That sounds like the first of many bad decisions.” He said, and Richie grinned at him, not seeming to care how dangerous it sounded.

“Write your blood type on your boots and leave your letters to your loved ones. Let’s rock n’ roll.” He said, and without waiting for the others, started off on the opposite side of the building.

Eddie gave an annoyed exclamation of, “Richie!” before following him, looking disgruntled. Bev shrugged at the other three, Mike and Ben staring at Richie and Eddie’s retreating figures, before turning and following the other two along the side of the building. 

 

~*~

 

For what seemed like the millionth time in the past five minutes, Eddie whirled around at the sound of a bird chattering, and Richie made an amused noise. “Okay, Eds? You have to stop doing that.”

“I would walk backwards, but there’s broken glass all over the place.” Eddie said indignantly. “And that’s not my name.” Eddie was right- there was broken beer bottles and shards of glass laying around. They had walked down past the parking lot and into the field that lay right beside the right side of the building. They’d had to climb the rusted fence- Eddie complaining the whole time- and now he was jumping at every sound that anything made, scared that it would be the killer. He really couldn’t blame him, but Eddie was making  _ Richie  _ more nervous, and that was something that he didn’t need at the moment. As soon as he thought that, Bev said the same thing.

“You’re making me more nervous.” Bev said in exasperation, and Eddie shrugged.

“Sorry.” He said, and though he stopped whirling around like something was going to attack him, his gaze still scanned through every part of the field nervously. 

“As much as I enjoy a good indie horror flick, it’s terrifying in real life,” Richie admitted, frowning as he looked around as well. Eddie stopped walking almost as soon as Richie said that, frowning as well. 

“This doesn’t feel right. Why is he changing the game up on Bill all of the sudden?” Eddie asked, and then automatically looked at Richie as if he would have the answer. He did.

“It’s because he’s playing chess instead of checkers. It started with Audra, and now Stan? He’s making Bill choose who lives or dies.”

“And Bill has all the pieces to lose.” Eddie murmured. “Including us.” Richie nodded in agreement, and Eddie’s frown deepened into a scowl. “He’s hiding behind a mask. There’s nothing that we can take away from him.”

“Unless we figure out who he is. Until then, he’ll just keep upping the game.” Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, and Eddie watched him think, admiring the way the sun hit him just right, even though now wasn’t the time. “It’s like…” Richie paused, mulling it over, and then kept going. “It’s like, you know, leading us here? It’s like he wants Bill- all of us, actually- to think that we have some power over this. And that he can take it all away.”

Eddie snorted and started to walk again. “It’s starting to sound like you admire this guy or something.”

“No! No, of course not. He’s some psycho-killer-loser guy, or something.” Richie said, and Eddie rolled his eyes, looking slightly amused. 

“If he wants us to find Stan, why not just leave the door open?” Eddie said, and Richie glanced over at him.

“Classic cat and mouse. He wants to play with his food before he eats it, you know?” Even as he said that, though, they slowed down as they got toward the back. There was a door there, rusted and yellow, but not boarded up. Richie swallowed nervously, suddenly having second thoughts about rushing in there recklessly. No one knew where they were- if they were all caught, they were screwed. “Or maybe he’d rather get right to the main course.”

 

~*~

 

“I can’t believe that we’re out here just because of Richie and Bev. I mean, sure, Ben tracked the signal here, but come on. You guys realize it could have been planted, right?” Mike said, sounding unsure about saying this out loud. Bill fixed him with a look of disbelief. 

“Y-You think Bev and R-Richie are doing th-this?” 

“I’m just saying,” Mike said, spreading his hands wide in a surrender. “On every cop show, there’s always that one harmless guy. And it’s usually the vic’s roomate, or her manager at a coffee shop or something, that’s like, ‘She’s  _ dead? _ That’s  _ horrible.’ _ ” Bill still didn’t look convinced, and Mike sighed. He felt bad, but he also felt like maybe he could be right. “Look, how well do we honestly know them? Yeah, that’s our fault, but that’s besides the point, okay? We’ve barely talked to them at all in two years. I didn’t even know they liked serial killers until we started talking again. We don’t really know anything about them anymore, and while I probably look like a jerk for saying this, someone should. We just don’t know, okay? 9 times out of 10 it’s the guy that’s super smart, and funny, and everyone likes him. We just don’t know.”

 

~*~

 

Bev pulled the door open, and it gave a soft creak, but otherwise made no sound. She slipped through the crack she had made in it, fiery red hair glowing from the sunlight until she stepped into the cool darkness inside. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know. Not a happy one.” Richie said as he followed her inside, and Eddie scrambled in after quite ungracefully, not wanting to get left out there alone. Richie fell behind so that Eddie could get in between him and Bev- that way, if anything got to them from behind, Eddie and Bev both had a chance to get out of there faster. 

“Hello?” Bev called into the darkness, and it echoed for a second before falling silent again. “Stan?” She tried again, but there was no reply. Inside, the walls were made of brick, painted white but with grime and dirt in the cracks. Cleaning supplies were laid all around, and there was what seemed to be a hallway pressed against one of the walls. It was put in such an awkward position that Richie knew that there must be a pretty large room on the other side of the left wall, but he couldn’t see what it was as they walked along the hallway. They walked for about another minute until an opening showed in the left, and as they stepped into it and walked into the next room, Richie let his eyes adjust to the dim light some more. At first he couldn’t tell what it was, but Eddie said it for him.

“It’s a bowling alley,” Eddie murmured, and Richie frowned. Why had they lead them here? Empty lanes for bowling ran up and down, and on the left wall there was a huge mural of a rollercoaster with a jaguar sitting on top of it. Richie squinted at it in confusion but decided not to question it. Very dim lights lit up the space enough that Richie could see pretty much the whole room, and the creep factor was definitely setting in. It was always creepy when places for fun and amusement were just abandoned, left to decay and waste away over time, and this was no exception.

There was a clang from behind them, and all three of them whirled around, but it was just Mike, Bill and Ben. “Thanks for waiting up,” Ben said, and Eddie gave a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry. We were curious.” 

“Is anyone else completely freaked out right n-” Another clang to their right cut Richie off, and he jumped. All of them stared as a red bowling ball rolled down the lane three lanes to their right slowly, taking it’s time. “Well that was terrifying,” he stated, and Eddie smacked his arm, muttering a quiet, “Not helpful.”

“G-god I h-hate bowling,” Bill muttered. “I underst-stand why he took m-muh-me to the h-hospital, but why bring Stan h-here?”

“This place is pretty big,” Ben said, glancing around. “We should split up to find Stan.”

“Said no one who survived a horror movie ever,” Mike said, and Bev nodded in agreement. 

“He’s r-right. Let’s split u-up into th-the same groups.” He gestured for Mike and Ben to follow him, and Ben did. So did Mike, but a bit more reluctantly.

~*~

 

“It’s so quiet,” Eddie murmured as they walked along the empty bowling alley, down behind the lanes.

“Yeah, until all the running and screaming starts,” Richie said cynically, looking around, and Bev rolled her eyes. She kept walking, ignoring Richie and Eddie as they started bickering like usual. 

“How mad are you on a scale of 1-10 that I call you Eds?” Richie said to Eddie as he walked.

“Eleventy.” Eddie said, raising an eyebrow at Richie, though the both know he didn’t really mean it.

“Because, you know, that would create an issue, right? And with a murder going around, it’s not good to have unresolved issues. Nicknames or… otherwise.” He said suggestively, and Eddie scoffed.

“Are you trying to use fear of death to get into my pants right now?”

“Maaaybe.” Richie said with a grin, and Eddie gave him a look and kept walking. Richie wasn’t deterred at all, bounding after him and seeming to have forgotten about the fact that they were probably in the same building as a murderer right now. 

About half an hour later, they had looked just about everywhere, and had even bumped into the other three a bunch of times. No one had found anything, and they were all starting to get frustrated. “Bill said that psycho guy said it’s hide and seek, right?”

“What if he’s not even here?” Richie said, but Bev shook her head.

“He has to be. It’s part of the game. But where?”

“What do you hide in a bowling alley?” Richie asked slowly. “Besides Stan, obviously.” Bev and Richie both looked stumped, uncertain, but Eddie’s gaze suddenly lit up.

“Where everything is run, right? You don’t want customers to see that stuff. Maintenance supplies.” At this, Bev straightened, eyes going wide. 

“We passed a janitor’s closet just a minute ago. Come on.” They all three took off down the halls, Bev in the lead, and when they skidded to a halt by the door, it was locked. The only locked door they had found in the whole building.

 

~*~

 

Mike walked down the lanes of the bowling alley slowly, gaze scanning over the dark areas. He had gotten separated from Bill and Ben, because they had agreed to split up more and meet back here in three minutes, but neither of them were here yet and it was starting to make him worried. He was walking down one of the lanes when footsteps sounded behind him, and he relaxed, relieved that they were finally back. “Finally, did you get lost or some-” as he turned around, he saw that it wasn’t Ben or Bill staring back at him.

It was a cloaked figure with a white mask. 

 

~*~

 

Bill jogged forward as he saw Richie, Bev, and Eddie, all trying to get through a locked door. He knew he was supposed to head back to Mike and Ben, but the possibility that Stan could be in there was too much for him to resist. He figured that Ben and Mike would be together anyway, which meant that they were relatively safe. He stopped beside them, and frowned. “L-let me help. W-Wuh-We all shove on th-three, okay?” They nodded, and he and Richie braced their shoulders against the door while Bev and Eddie prepared to push them. “One… T-Two… Three!” On three, all four of them shoved hard, and it gave way. Richie and Bill tumbled into the room, and Bill fell hard, the palms of his hands shredding slightly as they connected with the hard concrete floor, but that wasn’t what he cared about. 

What he cared about was the limp figure hanging from the ceiling, blood stains spreading on his white, ripped shirt, curly hair crusted with blood and eyes closed. Bill couldn’t tell if he was breathing, and that thought sent him into even more of a panic mode. “Stan! Richie, cut him down!” He said, racing forward to the taller boy. Richie reached Stan first, and as Richie cut the ropes holding Stan up, Bill caught him before he could fall. They both sank down to the ground, and Bill tried not to think about the last time they were in this position. 

He fumbled with the ropes wrapped around Stan’s wrists with fumbling fingers until he got them off, and peeled off the duct tape as carefully as he good. Richie looked like he was gonna be sick, and Eddie was watching with pain in his gaze. Bev had stayed back, not even wanting to see the pain that Stan was sure to be in. “Stan! W-wake up, please…” he said, shaking Stan as hard as he could to no response. “Stan!” 

~*~

 

Mike gave a yelp of surprise, and was suddenly thankful for his football skills as he turned as fast as he could and ran the other way. He jumped the steps that lead into the back of the bowling alley and sprinted down the dark hallway, just barely keeping his balance and not pausing to take a break. He was afraid that if he did, it would mean the end of his life. As he ran down the hallway, he could faintly hear,  _ “Stan! Stan, wake up, it’s me!”  _ and made his way that way. He could no longer hear footsteps behind him, but he didn’t risk pausing and looking back. Instead, he practically flung himself into the closet they were all in, making all of them jump as he slammed the door shut behind him, shutting out most of the light. Somebody slammed him against the door hard with surprising strength, and before he could shove them back, a knife was pressed against his throat. One wrong move, and it would be over.

He gasped, freezing in place. A voice in the darkness said, “Mike?” It sounded like Beverly, and he tried not to move. The knife was sharp, and if he leaned forward even slightly it would break the skin on his neck. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He breathed, and there was fumbling. A second later, a light flickered on, revealing that Richie was the one that had been holding Mike in place, one hand keeping the knife there and one hand steadying himself. His body was also twisted just slightly, Mike noticed, so that he could move in front of Eddie in a split second. As soon as he saw it was Mike, though, he released him. Mike suddenly felt bad about what he had said earlier, about Richie behind the killer, but didn’t say anything. “The killer’s out there.” He said, reaching up to rub his throat slightly as Richie pulled the knife away.

“Sorry,” Richie said, nodding to his throat and looking slightly embarrassed. “I thought you were… you know.”

“It’s fine.” Mike said, grabbing a wooden board and using it to block the door. 

“Where’s Ben?” Beverly asked, and Mike’s eyes widened. He spun around to scan the room, though he already knew the answer as he responded.

“He’s not here? Oh, god, he must still be out there.” As soon as the words left Mike’s lips, Bev was lunging for the door to get out, but Richie held her back.

“We can’t, Bev. He’ll find us. He’s smart, it’s Ben. Trust me,” he said shakily, and Bev looked like she was on the verge of tears, but slowly stopped fighting against Richie.

“He better fucking be okay after this, Richie,” Bev said, and they all knew she meant it. If Ben died out there, she would never forgive herself- and she would never forgive Richie for not letting her go out there. He nodded quietly, face completely serious. It was probably the most serious that Richie had ever been, face pale and scared. 

“Is that Stan?” Mike asked, staring at Stan’s pale and unmoving form, and Bill didn’t even look up as Richie nodded. He could see that Bill was trying hard not to cry as he shook Stan and kept talking to him as though Stan could hear him.

“Please, th-this can’t be how you d-die, not today, okay? Not for… n-not for eighty years. You’re g-gonna live a long, happy life.  _ P-please,  _ Stan, j-just-”

Stan gave a rattling gasp, eyes flying open. Sweat shone on his forehead as he coughed hard, and Bill pulled him up to his chest. Now he  _ was _ crying, relief in his voice as he held Stan close. “Okay, it’s o-okay, it’s o-okay,” he repeated, and he didn’t know if he was telling himself or Stan. Stan leaned into Bill, looking more exhausted than anyone had ever seen him. His eyes shone with the pain of his chest, which was still bleeding, though more slowly. He didn’t say a word about it, though, quiet, and just let Bill hold him. 


	28. All for the Love of You...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might do a double post tomorrow, but don't hold me to it. If I do, then it will probably be two posts of this length, about 2 or 3 hours apart in the evening. If I don't do the double post, then I'll post around this time again tomorrow with 2,000 to 3,000 words per usual.

Bill’s phone went off, and with sudden ferocity Bill chucked it across the room, sure that it was the killer and not in the mood to play his stupid game right now. Mike reached out and grabbed it before it could hit the wall, though, and instead of the killer, it was Bill’s mom. He answered it quickly for Bill, since Bill was a little preoccupied with Stan.

“Mrs. Denbrough?” He said, but there was no sound on the other line, and he remembered what Ben said about the connection being spotty. “Look, I-I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re in a bowling alley out past the crossroads. Stan’s bleeding, we need you to send-” a beeping sound went off in his ear, showing him that the connection was lost, and he exhaled, setting the phone down. Neither Bill nor Stan looked up, wrapped up in their own little moment of Bill explaining what had happened.

“Nancy? What about Nancy?” Stan said suddenly, stiffening, but Bill waved him off.

“Sh-she’s fine. She told us wh-wh-what happened.” Bill murmured. Stan relaxed, slumping against Bill again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I-”

“Don’t you dare a-apologize,” Bill said fiercely, but then his toned softened. “Th-this isn’t your f-fault, Stan.” From behind them, the sound of ripping duct tape was heard, but neither Bill nor Stan looked up to see what it was. When Mike glanced up, he was that it was Richie, taping the knife that he had brought to a split off piece of a wooden plank. The sides were splintering off, but Richie didn’t seem to care.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mike asked in confusion, and Richie didn’t look up from his task, mouth parting slightly as he focused.

“I’m making a knife stick.” He said simply, like that was all the explanation needed. Mike waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, Mike sighed.

“Knife stick?” He prodded.

“Well, the odds of surviving a hand-to-hand attack increase exponentially with distance,” Richie said, glancing up at Mike.

Eddie gave a small smile despite the situation, just for a brief second. “You’re such a nerd with this stuff,” he teased slightly.

“Here, let me,” Mike said, grabbing the stick and the knife from Richie, because Richie clearly wasn’t getting anywhere. He ripped the piece of duct tape off with his teeth and focused, before taping it firmly so that the blade was at a good angle for stabbing.

“I don’t even wanna know why you’re better at this than I am.” Richie said, and Mike rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he handed it back to Richie, but the gravity of the situation pressed down on him once again and the smile vanished.

“And you know it’s called a spear, right?” Mike said as he turned away, and Richie nodded, taking it from Mike gratefully. Mike tuned back into Stan and Bill’s conversation quietly, sitting down across from them.

“I don’t understand,” Stan said, voice so soft that Mike almost missed it. “Why didn’t he kill me?”

“B-because he kn-knew I would come looking f-for you.” Bill responded grimly, not looking like he was planning to let go of Stan any time soon.

“You shouldn’t have,” Stan muttered quietly. “It’s a trap, and I know you know it.” Bill frowned deeply at this, looking upset.

“First of a-all, th-this is all happening b-because of m-muh-me, not you. And of c-course I’m gonna come l-l-looking for you, St-Stan, I-” he was cut off as Stan shifted and then gave a sharp hiss of pain, tensing. He was partially relieved that Stan cut him off- he didn’t know how he was gonna finish that sentence- but that part was drowned out as worry flooded through him. “Wh-what?”

“My b-back…” Stan said, hand gripping Bill’s as hard as he could.

“L-let me see,” Bill said quietly, shifting and moving so that he could see Stan’s back. His white shirt was still bloody from his chest wound, but the back was relatively clean except for one particular spot of blood directly in the middle. Dread surged through Bill, almost taking his breath away, as he lifted up Stan’s shirt just enough to see his back.

Carved into Stan’s back, large and red, it said **B4.**

At Bill’s sharp intake of breath, Stan stiffened again. “What is it?”

“H-he carved something,” Bill said quietly. “S-Some more games.” His gaze went up to focus on Bev, not wanting to leave Stan. “L-look for B4. Anyth-thing with B4.” Bev gave a nod, looking relieved to have something to do other than just stand and worry, and started digging through shelves, searching. Bill pulled Stan’s shirt back down, blood staining his fingertips a dark red, along with his shirt.

About a minute passed before Bev finally found something. It was something small and rectangular, wrapped in a piece of aged paper. She tossed it to Bill, who caught it with one hand (barely) and pulled the piece of paper off it first. It was a work slip, with the name _Brandon James_ scrawled in sloppy handwriting across the top. “B-Brandon James worked here,” Bill said in surprise, and Bev gave a murmur of surprise. Bill set the piece of paper down on the ground and squinted at what was in his hand, hard to see at first because of the dim lighting. It was a cassette tape, and on one side on a piece of tape, it said **PROJECT PTSD.** On the other side it said **PLAY ME.** Almost as soon as he read what it said out loud, the speakers above them crackled, and Bill jumped slightly in surprise. Bev’s gaze shot up, and Richie gripped his makeshift spear tighter. Mike stiffened and Eddie grabbed the closest thing to him automatically, which happened to be a hammer.

Instead of someone speaking, though, out came the old lullabye that only Richie remembered hearing as a child. _“Daisy… Daisy… give me your answer, do…”_

“Cue creepy murder music,” Bev muttered. “I knew we were missing something.” Her voice was shaking, and she kept shooting glances at the door, but Bill knew it wasn’t from fear of the murderer- it was from fear for Ben’s safety. Richie and Bev were glancing back and forth at each other, and seemed to be having a conversation without even speaking out loud. Richie gripped his spear tighter and gestured with it slightly to make a point, and Bev hesitated but gave a small nod, leaning back.

_“I’m half crazy, all for the love of you…”_

Bill got off, and Richie recognized the look on Bill’s face as seriously pissed off. “Th-this is going t-t-to sound crazy, but I’ll be right b-back.” Before the others could say anything he was gone, out of the door. Stan swore faintly, and gestured for Richie to help him up. He did so, keeping one arm on Stan to steady him, and Stan tried not to breathe heavily so that he seemed more fine than he was.

“Okay, we can’t just let him be out there by himself.” Stan said sharply.

“And we need to find Ben,” Bev and Richie both said at the same time, and glanced at each other.

“Right. And that means we need weapons.” Stan said shakily, grip on Richie tightening for more support.

Richie nodded, gesturing with the spear. “Way ahead of you.”

 

~*~

 

_“Daisy, Daisy…”_

Bill made his way along the hallways, searching for the room that contained all of the stuff for the speakers and everything electronic. He was being carefully, pressed against the wall so that no one could sneak up on him, but the wooden floor was breaking underneath him as he walked from years of being abandoned.

_“Give me your answer, do…”_

He ran along the hallways until he found the receptionist desk, and saw where the mixtape was coming out of that contained the song still playing throughout the building. He popped it out with a press of a button, and clicked the other mixtape that Beverly had found into place. He pressed play, and immediately, it started running.

 _“How have you been sleeping, Zach?”_ A doctor’s official voice came out through the speakers, voice crisp and intuitive.

 _“I keep having nightmares.”_ Bill recognized his father’s voice, even from years ago, and stayed crouched down behind the desk as he listened to what was going on in the mixtape, so that whoever else was out here couldn’t find him

 _“About the attack?”_ The doctor’s- therapist’s?- voice said through the speakers, and Bill could almost see his dad shaking his head in the way he did when he was frustrated.

 _“About them. Together. I can’t get that image out of my head. Hiding in that bowling alley.”_ Bill frowned in confusion as he listened, but he didn’t know if the problem was that he didn’t understand what his father was saying, or he didn’t _want_ to understand. _“I know I let her down. But how could she sleep with that monster?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't get that part, because the wording was kind of confusing, basically, Sharon Denbrough slept with Brandon James, and Zach Denbrough caught them.


	29. Surprise!

A scream from outside startled the six left in the room, and Richie’s eyes widened in horror as Bev went, “Ben!” And was out the door before anyone could stop her. Richie moved to follow her, but Mike put a hand out, stopping him.

“Just wait for a second, Richie, we need to think this through.” Mike said, and Richie looked even more upset.

“But Bev-” He started, but Mike cut him off.

“Will be fine. She’s smart, and she can last 60 seconds while we think of a plan to save them, okay?” Mike said, and Richie was completely tense, but he didn’t move towards the door again.

“Okay.” Stan said quietly. “I’ll go out and find them, and you guys search for a way out, okay?” But as Stan moved toward the door he let out a hiss of pain and stumbled, gripping onto the wall.

“You can barely walk!” Richie said indignantly. “But sure, if you wanna make it easier for him, be my guest!” He said sharply, yanking the door open as if to prove his point. What he wasn’t expecting was for the masked figure to be there, and just barely avoided the knife by moving backward so fast he tripped and fell. He landed hard, scrambling backward, and the other three let out screams of surprise in fear. Richie kicked the door hard before whoever it was could come it, and threw himself against it. Mike and Stan both joined him, while Eddie scanned the dark room for any way to get out. Finally, his gaze came to rest on a locked door that was half blocked by a shelf.

“Mike!” He shouted, and Mike nodded, pulling away from the door to come help Eddie shove the shelf out of the way. It took longer than Eddie expected it to, and the door was now cracked enough to fit a hand. The hand with a knife was sticking through it, stabbing randomly, and Richie sucked in a pained breath as it caught his forearm, but just shoved harder against the door. Eddie grabbed the stick that he’d had earlier, and brought it down on the locked doorknob with a force that none of them knew he had. It popped off and Eddie made a triumphant noise, yanking it open. Mike and Eddie both hesitated, though, until Stan gave a nod.

“Go, guys, it’s okay!” He said, teeth grit with the force of holding back the door. Eddie and Mike didn’t need any more instruction. They booked it out of there, though Eddie left the stick behind just in case they needed it. As soon as they left, Stan turned to Richie. “You, too. Get out of here, Rich.”

“If you think I’m just going to leave you-” Richie started, and Stan scowled.

“I know you are. I’m already wounded, just _go.”_ But Richie didn’t move, gaze hardening.

“No.” He said firmly. “We’re in this together, like it or not.”

 

~*~

 

“Ben!” Bev breathed, horror in her gaze as she sprinted down the bowling lane and practically fell to the ground. Ben was leaning against the wall, either unconscious, or…

A knife was sticking out of his chest, buried hilt-deep, and a large blood stain was spread around it. Tears sprung into Bev’s eyes, and her hands fluttered around the wound, but she didn’t know what to do, how to help. All she knew was that this _psycho_ did this, to sweet, innocent Ben.

“Oh, god, please be alive,” she said, crying as she talked to Ben, even though she didn’t think that he could hear her. “Please, please be alive, I’m sorry for leaving you out here.” She waited a little less than a minute, but there was no response, and it didn’t look or sound like he was breathing. She felt tears flood down her face, blurring her gaze, but she didn’t care. Ben was dead, and she had just left him-

Something brushed against her hand, and she gave a mini shriek before realizing what it was. Ben’s hand. She gave a sob of relief, grabbing onto Ben’s hand quickly. “You’re gonna be okay,” she breathed, but he didn’t seem to register her words. All he seemed to acknowledge was her presence, which she was okay with. As long as he knew that she was here- that she hadn’t abandoned him- she could focus properly to keep him alive. She reached out and gripped the knife, ready to pull it out, but remembered something that they had learned in first aid training, a required high school class at Derry. The knife blade was blocking more blood flow, and if she were to pull it out, she knew that the blood would be released and he could die faster. She instead she released the handle of the knife, shaking hard. Ben shifted slightly, eyes opening weakly as Bev gave a soft sigh of relief. He moved to sit up, and left out a cry of pain that echoed through the empty bowling alley.

“B-Ben?” Bill’s voice called out, and then goosebumps ran along her arms as a scream quickly followed.

 

~*~

 

Bill’s head snapped around at the sound of a sharp cry of pain. It sounded like Ben’s, so he called out tentatively, “B-Ben?”

There was no response, but he started jogging in the direction of where the cry had come from, the mixtape clutched tightly in his hand. He broke into a run, but was yanked back with a startled gasp out of nowhere. He slammed into the ground hard, and above him, he saw with wide eyes, was the cloaked figure. The Brandon James mask stared back at him, and he couldn’t swallow back the scream this time as it slipped past his lips. But as the figure was about to bring the knife down, another, taller figure slammed into him, and Bill recognized the head of wild curls that followed the masked figure to the ground. Richie.

At the same time, the doors of the bowling alley slammed open all at once, and police swarmed inside the building, Sheriff Hudson in the lead. It looked like Mike’s phone call had payed off in the end as the Sheriff shouted, “Bill Denbrough? Are you in here?” Then, into his walkie talkie, “We need backup and medics, _now.”_

 

~*~

 

The rest of the evening was a blur. The police got everyone out- Eddie had managed to get some of it on video tape, having stolen Richie’s camera when he had fled the room, and stuck behind in case something happened and they needed an attack that the murderer wouldn’t see coming. Mike had gone out to get help, which had arrived faster than any of them had thought because of his call before. When the police got there, they searched top to bottom for the killer, but nothing was found. No fingerprints, nothing. It was like he had vanished into thin air. Kieran, the new kid, had shown up, too. It turned out that Sheriff Hudson was his father, and he had heard what happened on the police scanner. It was kind of weird to see someone from their class there, witnessing this first hand, that wasn’t part of their group, but Bill assumed that everyone would be talking about it anyway, so one more person couldn’t hurt.Richie and Eddie had gone home together (after questioning, of course), and Eddie had made an excuse of staying over at Bill’s house to study so that it wouldn’t look like he had been doing anything with Richie. She had texted Bill to confirm, which of course, he had. Stan and Ben had both been loaded into ambulances, and while they knew that Stan would be fine eventually, they didn’t know about Ben yet. Bev had gone with him, refusing to stay behind with the others when Ben’s life was in danger. And while Bev was currently pissed off at Richie, as long as Ben was okay, Richie knew that Bev would be too. And he was really, really hoping that Ben was okay. He just didn’t understand how someone could vanish like that- like they had always been there in the first place.


	30. Tripwire

Bill’s interrogation wasn’t so much an interrogation, it was more like a conversation with Sheriff Hudson. Where he was trying to get the truth out of Bill, and Bill wasn’t taking any of the “you’re not gonna get in trouble for being out there by yourself” crap. But he really didn’t care if he got in trouble or not, he cared more about the fact the so-called interrogation was taking forever and the other five Losers not currently hospital-bound were waiting for him so they could all go and check up on Ben and Stan.

“So do you have any idea why you were brought there?” Sheriff Hudson asked, and Bill gave a sigh.

“Wh-whoever is doing th-this wants to ‘open my eyes’ about the people a-a-around me. Closest to me. And i-it all goes back to B-Br-Brandon James.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide his shaking hands. They hadn’t stopped shaking since Stan had been kidnapped, and even though he knew Stan was going to be okay they wouldn’t stop.

“You can’t keep doing things like this on your own,” Sheriff Hudson said, and Bill tried not to let the irritated thought of _You sound like my father_ flood through his mind. “I think he needs a protective detail,” he said, this time to Sharon, and she nodded in agreement. Bill straightened, indignation washing over him.

“N-No! Look, Ben… Ben will be f-fine,” at this, he wasn’t certain, but they were pretty sure by now that he would okay, “And Stan is r-recovering quickly.”

“You count this a win because you survived?” Sheriff Hudson scowled, and Bill crossed his arms over his chest.

“Th-that’s not what I-” Bill started hotly, but a honk outside interrupted them, and for once, Bill was grateful for Richie’s timing. “I-I gotta go.” He grabbed his phone and was out the door before either of them could say anything else, jumping the last porch step and jogging to Richie’s truck. Eddie was in the passenger seat, and Bev was talking to Richie about something on her phone as Bill ducked into the truck.

“Mike said he’d meet us there, he had some chores to do or something around the farm,” Richie said as he pulled out of Bill’s driveway. “How was the interrogation?”

“I-It was more like th-they’re trying to put a-a security detail o-on me, th-though I don’t know whether i-it’s to protect me, or to m-muh-make sure I don’t do a-anything like last night again. Pr-probably both.” Bev gave a soft, sympathetic hum and nodded. Changing the subject, Bill glanced over at Eddie. “H-how was therapy?”

Eddie’s mother had gotten them both up early to drive Eddie to therapy this morning, not seeming to notice or care how tired Eddie was. Richie tensed just the slightest bit, and Bill was glad that Eddie didn’t seem to notice. “Fine, I guess.” Eddie said after a minute. “Just annoying. He’s currently trying to convince me it’s a sin and I’m going to hell, and that I should hate myself, but he can somehow magically fix me.” Eddie rolled his eyes, and Bill felt a rush of pride at the fact that Eddie didn’t believe what this guy was telling him. Eddie was small, but he was strong, but physically and mentally. It would be hard, but he could get through it.

The ride to the hospital was pretty short, so the conversation pretty much ended there as they pulled into the hospital’s parking lot and got out. They walked inside and all got their visitor stickers for both Ben and Stan, and the lady at the front desk gave them a strange look, but didn’t say anything as they passed by. They went to go see Ben first, even though the nurse had told him that he wouldn’t be fully conscious for about two more hours. They had stitched him up, and the nurse had said he would be okay as long as he rested for quite a long time, and didn’t tear his stitches. She said it had been a close call, but he was lucky that the medics had got there in time, thanks to Mike.

When they got into the room, Ben looked a lot more cleaned up than when they had last seen him, which, Bill supposed, made since. For example, he wasn’t covered in blood, dirt, and dust. There were bags under his eyes, though, and his face was pale. Goosebumps ran along his arms, showing that Ben was cold even though he was under the hospital blankets. Bill could see the edge of a bandage poking out underneath Ben’s hospital gown, but other than that, he looked virtually unhurt except for minor scrapes and bruises along his arms. Occasionally, he would shift in his sleep, wince, and then go back to the other position so that he wasn’t in pain, all without waking up. Bev took a seat immediately next to Ben, and Bill could understand completely why she did so- Bill would’ve done the same thing with Stan if it was this serious. He had, in fact, stayed there the first night of the hospital after Stan had nearly been killed.

Bev’s fiery red hair was messy, and she ran her fingers through it, messing it up even more and making it stick straight up in some places. Now that he knew that Ben was going to be okay, he was itching to go see Stan, but he urged himself to stay still and sat down by Bev. While he looked exhausted, Bill also couldn’t help but notice that Ben’s face was more peaceful than it had been since everything with Brandon James had started. He hadn’t noticed before, but it seemed to be really taking a toll on Ben. He wondered if they all looked like that, tired and like they desperately needed a break.

A look around at the others showed that they did. Richie looked the most tired out of all of them, but it was a happy sort of tired as Richie himself surveyed the group, and that was the moment that it hit Bill just how much he had missed Richie, and vice versa. Richie looked like he finally felt like he belonged, and that he would do anything for them. And that was something he wasn’t gonna give up sometime soon. And Bill felt like the hole that all of them had had was now gone and filled. It was hard to describe, but it brought Bill a rush of happiness despite what it was, exactly, that had brought them together- the murders. Even through all of that, Richie was happy, and that happiness seemed to be contagious.

Bill gave a small laugh as the pure luck of the situation hit him. They had just had a brush with death, some of them not once, but _twice,_ and had come out of it mostly unscathed. They had all survived. The others seemed to be thinking the same thing, because Bev started to giggle too, and it didn’t even take a second before they were all laughing, trying to keep it quiet. It was weird to laugh in a hospital, like you weren’t supposed to. This was a place of sickness and disease, of injuries and blood and death. And here were the five of them, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. It felt nice to let the case, the murders, Brandon James, all of it, slip away for just a minute. After said minute was over, they all seemed to calm down, though occasionally Eddie or Bev would dissolve into giggles again and send them all back into laughter.

They spent a couple more minutes in there, talking to each other, but finally Bill couldn’t wait anymore and said that he was gonna go visit Stan. The others gave a nod, and Richie and Eddie followed while Mike stayed with Ben. Stan’s room was two floors above Ben’s, who had been on the first floor. When they got there, Stan was sat up in his hospital bed, awake and organizing a package of cards, separating it into four different groups for spades, hearts, clubs and diamonds, and then putting those piles in order, using the ace as a one and going all the way up to the king. He didn’t look up when the three Losers entered the room, but Bill saw the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. He didn’t look up to acknowledge their presence until he was done sorting the cards the exact way he wanted them. Then, he leaned back and glanced over at them, curly hair combed and brushed, and Stan looked as awake and normal as ever despite the fact that he was wearing a hospital gown. Bill also faintly noticed that his bed was made as well.

“H-How you f-f-feeling?” Bill asked, and Stan gave a small chuckle.

“Sore.” Stan said, and then after a moment, added, “Bored. Bed rest blows.” Bill nodded in agreement, and Richie grinned at Stan.

“At least you’ve got a cool new scar,” Richie said, and Stan rolled his eyes slightly, though Bill could tell he wasn’t as annoyed as he tried to make it seem.

“That really doesn’t help my boredom issue, though, does it?” Stan said, and Bill smiled.

“S-Sounds like it’s finally t-time to get N-Netflix.”

“Yeah,” Stan sound in agreement, gesturing to the TV in the hospital that looked like it was too old to even work anymore, beaten up. It had a CD player, though, and a small variety of movies available. “They don’t have it here. But they do have a copy of _Guardians of the Galaxy,_ and there’s this one kid that kind of looks like me when I was younger.” He gave a slight smile, and Bill nodded with a small laugh.

“Y-you say that like y-you’ve never s-s-seen it before.” At this, Stan just shook his head, and Bill’s amused smile turned into an open mouth of surprise. “Y-you’ve never seen it b-before?”

Before Stan could answer, though, a nurse came in, a clipboard in her hands. “I just came in to let you all know that Stanley’s free to go today.” Then, to Stan, she said, “You just need to fill out this paperwork,” she handed Stan the clipboard and a pen, and after another minute Stan handed it back to her and she handed his clothes over to him, in a baggie. He took the baggie and got up, ducking into the bathroom. Not even a minute later he came back out and set the hospital gown on his bed, dressed and looking more like normal Stan.

“Let’s get out of this place.”

 

~*~

 

“And he lives to fight another day,” Bev said, and Richie looked up from stocking shelves, smiling slightly. It had been about an hour or two since Stan had been released, and they had all waited around (except for Stan and Bill, because Stan wanted to get the hell out of there but was in no state to drive with the amount of drugs he was on) for Ben to wake up. They had talked for a while and then Richie drove everyone home, because he had to go to work and no one had a ride. He had brought Bev to work to help him because she didn’t want to go home (for obvious reasons), but instead of helping she was wandering around pulling things off of shelves and examining them as if she wasn’t here pretty much every weekday.

“You know, I never did find knife stick,” Richie said, and Bev gave a small chuckle. “He was probably recruited into the killer’s arsenic. Brainwashed into thinking he’s an evil weapon. Hey, do you think we could go back with my camera and shoot a modern day _Blair Witch_ with a retro bowling alley theme?”

“Nope,” Bev so fast that Richie laughed, glancing over at her again as she went on. “I am never setting foot in that place again. That was slimy, asbestos-sprinkled torture.” Then, she paused, and then smiled. “But illuminating.”

“How so?” Richie raised an eyebrow, and Bev shrugged.

“Well,” she said slowly. “Stan was kidnapped and Ben was stabbed. Not that I think Ben did it anyway, but everyone’s on the list. Or was. This kind of takes them off of it.”

“Unless…” Richie said slowly. “Unless that’s what it was supposed to do. Either one of them-” Bev raised an eyebrow at the fact that he was implying that Ben did it, but he kept going, because anything was possible. “Either one of them could have set this up to make us trust them.”

“Ben would never-” Bev started hotly, but Richie shook his head.

“We gotta put it out there, Bev, you know we do.” Richie said, and she scowled but didn’t argue any more.

“You gonna tell Bill this theory?” Bev asked, and Richie shook his head grimly.

“Hell no. He’s been through enough.” Richie sighed, and Bev nodded in agreement. “It’s up to us.”

 

~*~

 

Richie pressed the green button on his phone to accept Eddie’s call, humming to the tune of a Fleetwood Mac song under his breath. “Hey, Eds, I’m here. Remind me why you wanted to meet me at a creepy old barn?” He stared up at the rusted barn, curious as he started to walk towards it quietly.

 _“Well, there’s been kind of a change of plans.”_ Eddie’s voice came through distorted, and Richie frowned slightly, nervousness twisting in his stomach. He pushed it away though. _“Let’s play a game.”_ Richie felt like he was getting choked as that word left Eddie’s lips. _Game, game, game. No more games. “Come find me, Rich.”_

“Eddie…” Richie swallowed, a lump in his throat. “I don’t think-”

 _“Actually, I have a better game.”_ It was sounded less and less like Eddie’s voice, more distorted, and Richie knew now that there was no way that it was him. Eddie would never do something like this. _“It starts with you running into that barn and finding him before it’s too late.”_

“No,” his voice sounded strangled and too high-pitched, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “W-what did you do to him? What do you want from me?” He approached the barn slowly, nervously now.

 _“I wanted you to have some pride. Instead you forgave him after everything they did to you. And it’s_ _what you’re gonna do that’s the real bitch. I suggest you start running.”_ A roar was heard from behind the barn as something was started up, and a spike of fear shot through him. He broke into a run, running through the barn and to the back, and the froze with fear.

Eddie was tied to a chair, duct tape over his mouth, thrashing as hard as he could. Sweat shone on his body, and fear filled his eyes along with tears. When he saw Richie he screamed, but Richie could barely hear it over the sound of what was directly above Eddie’s head. It was some type of machine, but that wasn’t what Richie was focused on. There was what looked like a giant chainsaw, controlled by the machine, right above Eddie’s head. All that was needed was for someone to press the button, and Eddie would be dead. He let out a shout and darted forward, but something caught his foot and he tripped, falling hard. He spat grass out of his mouth, and looked back to see what had tripped him. Tripwire. Which meant-

Terror shot through him as he looked over to Eddie, meeting his gaze as the chainsaw started to lower.


	31. Hysteria, Shock and Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this isn't too long and took a while to get out. I had trouble deciding whether or not I wanted to kill Eddie off, and finally I decided that no, I didn't, not yet at least :) Anyway, that happened, and I couldn't get any of the wording right, and eventually I decided to just post this because I couldn't figure out a better way to word it.

Richie was really glad for the fact that Eddie thought fast, because all he could seem to do was stare in horror as the chainsaw lowered steadily towards Eddie’s head. Eddie flung himself forward, and the flimsy wooden chair tipped to the side, skidding just barely out of harm’s way, or at least enough that it wouldn’t cut through him yet. But if he didn’t move soon, it would slice through his torso and kill him anyway. As soon as the chair hit the ground, Richie was on his feet, ignoring the mud and dirt that now covered his shirt and the knees of his jeans, and tripping over his own feet once again as he tried to get to Eddie as fast as he could. The chainsaw kept lowering, and Richie pulled the chair out from underneath the chainsaw the rest of the way. Eddie was shaking so hard that Richie could barely peel off the duct tape that kept his hands and feet firmly pressed against the chair. He also pulled off the duct tape covering Eddie’s mouth, not that it really did anything. Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line, sweat and tears covering his face, and Richie knew that that was the only thing stopping Eddie from bursting into ugly sobs of fear.

Richie wanted to hold him, hug him tight and never let go, but he also wanted to get the hell out of there, and that instinct came first. He grabbed Eddie’s hand, and Eddie shakily stood up, leaning against Richie for support. Eddie couldn’t stop crying, but Richie couldn’t bring himself to focus on that, not yet, as much as he wanted to. So he and Eddie got out of there as fast as possible with Eddie leaning heavily against Richie. Richie was trying to think of anything to say to distract him, but he was at a loss for words, trying not to think of what would have happened if Eddie hadn’t tipped the chair. 

They made it all the way to the car before either of them said a word, and only then did Eddie break down completely, sobbing and shaking and completely losing it as Richie pulled his close wordlessly, a numb sort of feeling taking over him. 

The drive home was quiet, and Richie didn’t dare break it, feeling like all of this was some sort of dream. That he was hallucinating, and he would wake up and this psycho wouldn’t be after Eddie, too. As much as he hated to say it, he had liked it better when nothing was focused specifically on him and Eddie. 

When they got back to Richie’s house, Eddie went upstairs to take a shower almost immediately, which Richie could understand. Eddie was covered in dirt and mud and his hair had grass in it. Richie changed into clean clothes, and tried to think about everything that had just happened.

Eddie stayed with Richie for the rest of the day, both of them finding comfort and solace in the other.

 

~*~

 

“Sheriff Hudson?” Nancy asked quietly, knocking on the office door, and the Sheriff sighed tiredly.

“I’m holding a press conference Monday about Patrick Hockstetter’s death,” he said without looking up. Patrick had been found dead yesterday, body in a ditch on the side of the road by the police station, like it had wanted to be found.

“No, I-I don’t want any information, I’m here to give you some.” Nancy said quietly, and the Sheriff glanced over at her curiously.

 

~*~

 

“Is this a joke?” Sheriff Hudson stared at the screen blankly, mouth parted slightly in surprise.

“Nope. It’s completely real, filmed by two kids who are now dead. Greta Bowie and Victor Criss.” Nancy said smoothly, staring at the tape along with him.

“Where did you get this?”

“From one of the kids who was blackmailing him.” She paused, almost as if for dramatic effect. “Patrick Hockstetter. The other, Henry Bowers, is lucky to be alive.” Henry had been found too, in the same ditch, stabbed in the stomach and barely alive when they found him. 

The screen showed the mayor dragging in what looked like a body in a large bag and putting it in a freezer in the garage. He stared at it, thinking, as Nancy watched his reaction worriedly. “So you think that the mayor killed Patrick Hockstetter?” He said slowly, and Nancy gave a shrug.

“I don’t know. But I do know that Patrick went to return the money because he was pissed off at Henry, because I was there. I heard it. And then the mayor left, and the killer came. He didn’t see me, but he dragged Patrick off.

The Sheriff scoffed, though he looked uncertain. “I don’t think that Quinn Maddox could have done this.” He said after a moment.

“I don’t want to believe it, but it’s obvious he’s carrying some body in that video.” She said firmly. 

“Why aren’t you podcasting this?” The Sheriff said, turning to her curiously, but she gave a small shrug, looking down.

“I don’t want to tell this story until I know the whole truth.” She said after a moment, frowning. “And I don’t want anybody else to die.” There was another pause, and she said softer, “Including me.”

 

~*~

 

When Eddie got to school the day after the next, everyone was unusually quiet, and at first he thought that it was because what happened with Richie. But it didn’t take long to figure out that the stares and the whispers weren’t aimed at him, they were aimed at Henry Bowers as he walked down the hall, by himself. Eddie didn’t think he’d ever seen Henry without his goons behind him, but it kind of made sense, for the most part. Victor was dead. But Patrick nowhere to be found, either, which confused him. He decided against asking about it, though, and started to open up his locker as Bill and Stan came up behind him, unusually quiet.

“Are you okay?” Stan asked, and Eddie gave a small nod, focusing a little too hard than was necessary on getting everything out of his locker.

“S-Seriously, Eddie…” Bill said quietly, and Eddie didn’t say anything, not sure what would come out of his mouth. “Th-there are no w-wuh-words. I mean, th-there are, but I can’t think of th-them.” Bill said, and Eddie sighed and gave them both a tight smile.

“I’m fine, okay? I promise, Big Bill. Don’t worry. How’s your chest?” He asked, changing the subject as he turned to Stan. Stan looked reluctant to go along with Eddie’s topic change, but he did so anyway.

“It’s fine, I guess. Still really sore, and I can’t do anything too hard like P.E. because I might rip the stitches. Other than that, fine.” Stan said, and Eddie nodded as they started to walk to class together, the three of them, as if nothing ever happened.

 

~*~

 

“Intolerance, deception, hysteria.” Mr. Branson said calmly from the front of the classroom, sitting on his desk as he faced the students in the room. “These are all common and central themes to _The_ _Crucible.”_

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Not Branson,” Richie muttered to Bev, and she glanced over at him, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Listen to him. He’s sending us a message. He knows that we know his secret.”

“All we know is that he changed his name,” Richie said skeptically, and Bev shrugged, looking back over at Mr. Branson and meeting his gaze. She went quiet for a long minute before he finally looked away, and she turned back towards Richie. 

“And he was conveniently not around for the bowling alley incident.” Bev said, and then there was a thunk as  _ The Crucible  _ hit Mr. Branson’s desk and he gave an irritated sigh, causing Bev to jump slightly. 

“Beverly. Richie.” He said sourly, narrowed gaze on the both of them. “Would either of you care to discuss the parallels between  _ The Crucible _ and McCarthyism?” For once, Richie didn’t feel very much like talking, and Bev seemed to notice this almost immediately, taking over.

“Well,” she said slowly. “I’m not fan of McCarthy’s blacklist, but sometimes the guy next door  _ is _ worshipping the devil.” Her gaze never left Mr. Branson’s, a clear challenge, and his gaze seemed to darken. Richie watched, kind of impressed at how well Bev was staring down Mr. Branson. Impressed, but not surprised. “For example,” she said casually, “Richard Ramirez.” 

There was a long pause, and then Mr. Branson turned away and Richie relaxed. “Beverly is right, of course, there are exceptions to the rule. However, the themes of trust and tolerance still resonate…”

 

~*~

 

Quinn Maddox scowled down at the computer screen. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” Sheriff Hudson scoffed, sitting down at the other end of the interrogation table. “Because to me it looks like you’re moving a body. And even if it’s not your wife, who’s gone missing-”

“She’s in Phoenix, at a rehab center! Give her a call!”

“I will.” Sheriff Hudson said shortly. “But besides that, we have the problem of four murdered kids who used that video to blackmail you, including Patrick Hockstetter.”

“I had nothing to do with that.” The mayor said angrily, and Sheriff Hudson rolled his eyes, disbelieving. “I’ve been trying to protect this town!” 

“Listen to me.” Sheriff Hudson snapped. “Nancy Wheeler is keeping this quiet for now, but it’s going to get out sooner or later. So I suggest you tell me what the hell happened before it does!”

“Okay.” 

 

~*~

 

“Did you see how Branson was giving us the stink eye?” Richie said as soon as they were out of that class, and Bev nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, all charm one second and deadly the next.”

“It’s just like in  _ The Faculty. _ Alien parasites turn the high school teachers into murderous body snatchers.” Then his face grew serious, and Bev rolled her eyes, already anticipating his next words. “I hadn’t considered that possibility-”

“Because you’re not insane.” She interrupted, and he shrugged.

“It’s wishful thinking. There are worse ways to go than being body-snatched by Famke Janssen.” At this, Bev gave a small laugh that quickly faded as they approached their lunch table. Eddie was in front of them, back facing Richie and Bev, and was scratching the back of his next absentmindedly, something he did when he was nervous or thinking. The computer screen in front of him was open to a website, and Richie’s stomach turned uneasily as he read the title of the article.  **THE COMORBIDITY OF INSOMNIA AND PARANOID DELUSION.**

“Eds?” Richie said softly, and Eddie jumped, shutting the laptop as fast as he could without trying to be too obvious. 

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Bev asked, coming to sit across from Eddie, and Eddie gave a nervous smile and a shrug. 

“Just… research. For a project.” He said vaguely, and Richie raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“For the psych class you don’t have?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said shortly, and Richie frowned.

“Eddie, are you self-diagnosing on the internet?” He tilted his head.

“Bad idea.” Bev gave a small chuckle, though it was mostly without humor. “It always leads to schizophrenia or something terminal.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys, I’m just not sleeping very well, okay?”

“And seeing things?” Richie said, and Eddie thought back to what he had seen earlier today. It had been himself, but… if he hadn’t been able to move in time. Cut in half. He fought the shudder that tried to go through his body, gritting his teeth. “Eds, we’re your friends.” Richie said, and then added in an even softer voice, “I’m your boyfriend. We can help. You can talk to us.” 

Eddie hesitated, and then shifted a tad bit closer to Richie, leaning into his side. “I just… I keep replaying what happened. And what  _ almost _ happened. Over and over again. What if I hadn’t moved, you know?”

“Eddie, that’s completely normal,” Bev reassured him, giving him a tentative smile. “I promise. Your brain just needs time to process the shock, that’s all.”

“See? It’s not paranoia. It’s survival.” Richie said simply, and Eddie shut his eyes, sitting back up straight and slightly away from Richie.

“I’m not paranoid.” He said quietly but firmly, and Richie blinked.

“N-No, I know, th-that’s not what- I just meant, you’re the opposite of that, you know? The internet is alarmist, you’re totally normal.”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say, because Eddie grabbed his laptop and got up quietly. “I need to go.” Richie watched him go, feeling helpless and unsure how to help for once. 

“You  _ really _ need an off switch.” Bev said after a long moment, and Richie groaned, resting his arms on the table and burying his head in them. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, McCarthyism is making accusations, etc without a regard for proper evidence. Richard Ramirez, if you didn't know, is a famous serial killer and (TW) r*pist, nicknamed "The Night Stalker".


	32. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed up Richie’s backstory for this a little bit, because in the book he has two loving parents and in the movie he really doesnt have either of them, so I kind of did my own thing with it.

Eddie walked down the school hallway, so invested in his thoughts that he didn’t notice as the crowds thinned around him, until it was just him, alone in the hallway. He wondered if the next bell had rung already, and he just hadn’t heard it, or if everyone was just getting to class early, but after a moment’s thought he decided that the bell must have rung. Since when did high schoolers actually get to class before they needed to?

As he thought that, the lights above him started flickering, eerily similar to that night at the abandoned hospital, and he slowed in his movements, pausing. They flickered out again, and then stayed out for a little while, before turning back on, but much dimmer than before. Unease started to make its way through his veins, and he kept walking again, at a slower pace this time as he took everything around him in. Everything besides the lights looked normal, until… until his gaze rested on the bloody trails leading through the tiled floor, large pools of blood leading up and around the corner. The lights went out again, startling him, and he looked up- just in time to meet the gaze of someone that looked identical to himself, except they were cut messily in half, right down the middle.

_I’m not paranoid._

Eddie screamed, dropping his books and falling backwards in an attempt to hastily get away, and felt the splatter of blood as he fell right in it. He shuddered and slipped on the still-warm liquid as he scrambled to his feet, shaking and backing away from what stood in front of him. The lights went out once more, and when they flickered back on, they were so dim that Eddie could barely see a thing. It held its hand out, and in it, a beating heart lay, looking almost black. Blood covered that… that  _thing’s_ hand, all the way up to its elbow, and it gave a wracking cough. Blood splattered around the edge of its mouth, dripping down from the corners and covering the teeth in the red substance. Then it grinned at him and curled its hand into a fist- the heart exploded in its grip, and Eddie flinched as blood burst out and hit his face. He screamed again and turned, running hard and fast in the other direction until he slammed into something.

Two strong arms caught him before he could hit the ground as he staggered, and Richie stared down at him, brown eyes wide and concerned behind his glasses. Eddie opened his mouth in a scream again, hands shoving at Richie until he realized who it was and nearly sobbed with relief. The relief quickly melted into nausea, though, and Richie seemed to realize the look on Eddie’s face as soon as Eddie began to feel it, because he let go quickly. Eddie sprinted into the nearest bathroom, stomach heaving as he threw up everything that he’d had for lunch not even half an hour ago.

“Eddie?” Richie’s voice said from outside of the stall, uncertain, and Eddie just gave a quiet groan for an answer, body trembling like a leaf in a storm. There was the sound of a faucet turning on, and then Richie was beside him, handing him a wet paper towel and dry one. Eddie shot him a grateful look and wiped his face with the wet paper towel and dried it with the other one. He still felt gross and dirty, but at the moment he wasn’t capable of doing anything except for sitting there and trying to breathe without vomiting again.

“Should I ask what made you so scared back there?” Richie asked tentatively, and Eddie shook his head, eyes slipping shut from his exhaustion.

“No. You really shouldn’t.” He muttered, and Richie gave a small nod, biting his lip.

“How are you feeling?” He asked instead, and Eddie gave a dry and humorless laugh. His hands came up and rubbed at his face, though it didn’t help at all with the gross feeling.

“Other than the constant fear?” He said dryly, and Richie looked down. “I don’t really feel much of anything.” He admitted with a sigh.

“It’s self preservation.” He said softly, but Eddie shook his head.

“It feels… wrong.” He didn’t know how to describe it, so he just gave another frustrated sigh and opened his eyes, looking over at Richie. For a long moment, Richie was silent, and then his fingers started to tap against his knee gently.

“When my mom died, all I felt was numb.” He said finally, and Eddie blinked, sitting up straighter. It was rare for Richie to talk about his parents at all, and though all of the Losers knew something had happened with them, none of them except for Beverly really knew what happened. They knew that Richie’s mother, who had been kind and gentle and sweet, had died in a car accident years before, when they were all in elementary. They also knew that something happened with Richie’s father, and that he was alive but never around, but that was about it. Richie never told them what happened at home. “I knew that I was supposed to cry, but… I couldn’t.” He said slowly, and then his gaze moved away from his hands and came up to meet Eddie’s. “There’s no right way to feel about this. You just gotta do whatever works for you. Whatever helps.”

~*~

 

 _“The murder of Patrick Hockstetter, and the close calls of Ben Hanscom and Stanley Uris have changed the town of Derry.”_ Nancy said in a quiet voice, recording more for her podcast _Autopsy of a Crime. “I used to be an outsider, and then Stan Uris saved my life. Now, I’m part of the story. So I can’t even pretend to be objective anymore. Now… now I just want it to be over. And for the people that I know to find peace again.”_

She turned it off as Bill made his way across the busy cafe. He was supposed to be working, but he couldn’t seem to focus on it, and finally he came and sat across from her.

“Hey, stranger.” She said with a smile, shutting her laptop with all of her recording information and looking over at him. “Welcome back.”

“Th-thanks.” Bill said, and gave a weak smile back as he collected her plate and empty cup, setting them on the counter to be washed.

“Did you hear the news about Quinn Maddox?” Nancy asked, tilting her head, and Bill nodded grimly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I h-heard.” Bill said dismissively, and Nancy raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t believe it?”

“I-I find it h-hard to believe that th-the mayor was th-the one chasing us a-a-around that bowling alley.” Bill said grimly, and the light and happiness and amusement that Nancy had seen in his blue eyes the first time they had met was completely gone.

“Look, I know you’re all going through hell right now, but you’re going to survive this,” Nancy said firmly, and Bill looked down, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones as he sighed.

“You kn-know, maybe it’s b-buh-better if I don’t.”

Nancy stared at him, shock and surprise making her brain short circuit. “Don’t say that.”

“H-He said it ends w-w-with me.” Bill said bitterly. “So let’s j-just skip ahead to th-the ending.”

“You can’t let this sadistic bastard win.” She shook her head, worry and concern in her gaze. “If you’re the key to all of this, then you have to find a way to fight back.”

“I did.” He said shortly. “And Eddie was almost sliced in half, right in front of Richie.” Nancy looked taken aback, and Bill shut his eyes, remembering that Eddie hadn’t wanted anyone to know. He pushed past that, though, burying his head in his hands. “I-I just don’t know i-i-if I have any fight l-left.”

“Yes, you do.” Nancy said gently, and Bill didn’t look up, quiet. “You come from a family of survivors.  Your mom, your dad, and now you. Don’t forget that.”

There was a pause, and then Bill spoke, voice so soft that Nancy almost missed it. “He said th-that my f-f-family’s a fraud.”

“Do you believe him?” Nancy asked, and Bill took a shaky breath, pulling his head out of his hands.

“I-I don’t know wh-what to believe anymore.”

“Then you _have_ to trust your instincts. Go and find the answers yourself.” She encouraged, and Bill glanced at her, sudden certainty flowing through him that she was right.

 

~*~

 

_“Daisy, Daisy… give me your answer, do…”_

Eddie bolted upright with a gasp, startling Richie awake from where he had been sleeping, Eddie curled into his chest. Eddie had wanted to go back to Richie’s place after what had happened at school, and an hour later they had both fallen asleep. Now, Richie blinked sleepily at him, confused. “Eds? You okay?” His words sounded muted, and everything was hard to see. Eddie couldn’t remember the lighting in Richie’s bedroom ever being this dim before.

_“I’m half crazy…”_

Eddie whirled around at the creak of a floorboard, the hardwood that covered Richie’s floor cool and smooth under his feet as he stood up, shaking. There, in front of him, stood the same thing that he had encountered in the school hallway. Himself, but cut in half. This time when it held something out, it wasn’t a heart. A keychain dangled from it’s fingers, silver and in the shape of a heart. With the lighting, that was all that Eddie was able to make off of it. Instead of screaming and running away though, this time, Eddie took a deep breath, forcing his tremors to come to a halt. He reached his hand forward and opened it, palm tilted up directly underneath the dangling keychain. It dropped the keychain with a satisfied look, and as soon as it hit Eddie’s skin he tensed up, giving a soft whimper. It was covered in blood, and Eddie tried not to think about that as he moved to get a closer look.

Two hands grabbed him gently, and Eddie jumped, whirling around. Everything came rushing back at him at once, and the room suddenly brightened- his hand was empty, and Richie was standing in front of him, confused.

This time, when Eddie hit the floor, it wasn’t of his own free will. It was the exhaustion washing over him, forcing his knees to buckle so that he collapsed, head hitting the floor with a thud.

 

~*~

 

“So if Branson is the killer, why would he take a job at a school? Instead of under the radar?” Ben said, and Bev shrugged as she put comic books into their place on the shelves. She had taken over Richie’s job today so that he could take care of Eddie, even though she didn’t technically work here. But she knew that Richie needed it, so here she was.

“Hiding in plain sight.” She said simply, and Ben tilted his head. “Think about it. It’s basically one-stop victim shopping, you know? Pick one, slay one, console one, repeat.”

“Okay.” Ben said slowly. “And what’s his criteria?”

“I’m thinking archetypes, you know? Greta was the queen bee, Victor, the rebel. Audra, the popular one, and Patrick, the brain. I mean sure, he’s not exactly going to be valedictorian,” Bev amended at Ben’s skeptical look, “But seriously. Out of the three, Henry, Patrick and Victor, who do you think came up with everything? It definitely wasn’t Henry, and if Victor was that smart, we wouldn’t have been able to trace the fact that he helped out Mr. Branson on the computer. So it’s gotta be Patrick. But that’s besides the point. If Branson’s behind this and the classroom is his cover, it stands to reason that he’d want his tools of the trade handy.”

“He was awfully anxious when he found us in there alone,” Ben agreed, and Bev nodded, stacking more comic books up.

She glanced at him, and gave a small smile. “Maybe it’s time to dig a little deeper.”


	33. The Baby

When Eddie woke up, the familiar lights of the hospital were what greeted him first. Then, to his horror, it was his mother that appeared next to him. She peered over him in his bed, looking worried, and vaguely Eddie wondered where Richie was. As soon as that thought surfaced in his mind, however, his brain didn’t want to think of anything else, even as Sonia fluttered around him, fussing with the pillows he was leaning against and being as annoying as ever.

“Mom, I’m fine.” He said finally, and tears filled her eyes. He shut his, already feeling the headache coming on from what was surely about to be a fight or a guilt trip. Or maybe the headache was from hitting his head on the floor.

“Oh, Eddiebear, you had me so worried! Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me?! Skipping out on your medication!” Then her face changed into anger, but not at him. “Or were they just not enough? These damn doctors don’t know what they’re doing anymore, they probably gave you the wrong prescription and I just _won’t_ have it, what if you hit your head and had an aneurysm? Or got a concussion? Or _died?”_ She said dramatically, and Eddie suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her.

“I’m _fine,_ Mom-”

“Shush, Eddie, you _will not_ interrupt me.” She chided, and he fell silent, head throbbing. “Now. I’ll have to talk to the doctor about giving you a higher dosage for your sleep medication…” Eddie tuned out to what she was saying, staring past her and through the room’s window. He could get a glimpse from the waiting room from here- so first floor, then- and could see five out of seven of the Losers in there. He really hoped that Richie was just out of sight, but he knew in his heart that his mother would have gotten Richie thrown out of the hospital the second she saw him here. She would have accused him of stealing, or smoking, or god knows what. Eddie really hoped that Richie had the sense to stay out of the hospital before that could happen, so that he could come visit when his mother went away. Though, at the moment, that seemed like it never would happen. “...with that boy,” she finished, and he snapped out of it, looking at her blankly.

“What, ma?” He said absently, and she scowled at him.

“I said, I don’t know how he found you, or what you two were doing, but I thought we were clear that you were never again to hang out with that boy.”

“Richie.” He muttered, and Sonia leaned closer.

“What was that, Eddiebear?” She said, and Eddie tried not to think too hard of how her breath stank of fish.

“Nothing.” He sighed tiredly, and she frowned but took that as an acceptable answer, leaning back. “When are my friends allowed to see me?”

“They’re not.” She said immediately, and the scowl returned to her ugly face. “They’re idiotic little ‘rebels’ that think going into abandoned and private property is okay. They’re not a good influence on you, especially that Tozier boy and the stuttering one. They just get you into trouble, and I will not stand for that, to see my perfectly good Eddiebear _ruined_ by such foul-mouthed, loathsome-”

“Stop.” He snapped at her, and she cut off abruptly, looking surprised. Eddie was tired of it- tired of listening to her, day after day, complaining about his friends like they did things like making deals with the devil. About his friends who accepted and stood up for him. He was tired of it. “They’re my friends. And they’re _good friends,”_ he said before she could interrupt. “And I think you’re forgetting one little itsy-bitsy thing about your _Eddiebear_ that seems to be a huge problem for you.” He said, sitting up in his hospital bed. He didn’t know where this fire had come from, but it wasn’t going away anytime soon. He was done. “I’m gay, ma, remember? I like boys. Tall boys, short boys, and especially curly-haired, glasses-wearing, ‘foul-mouthed’ boys with the most adorable freckles who was there for me when you weren’t. _I’m gay._ And I’m in love with Richie Tozier.”

 

~*~

 

“I thought you quit.” Said a voice from behind him, and Richie turned to see Stan coming through the doors of the hospital and out into the open air. Richie lifted the cigarette back up to his lips and shrugged quietly, breathing in. After a second he exhaled the smoke, unusually still.

“Stressful times.” He said with a shrug, and offered the cigarette to Stan. Instead of Stan turning it down like he always had, Stan simply hesitated and then took it, inhaling deeply. Immediately, he broke into a coughing fit, and Richie couldn’t help but laugh as he took the cigarette back. “Stan the Man, smoking? Well, I never.” He said, and the faint stirrings of a Voice crept in on the last part, but it faded out. He hadn’t done a real Voice in about two years.

“I wanted to see what it was like,” Stan said, coughing some more as he tried to get fresh air back into his lungs. “It’s fucking horrible, why do you do that?”

At this, Richie shrugged once again and took a last inhale from the cigarette before stubbing it out in one of those trash can ashtrays. “It helps get rid of stress. I like it. I would go get high instead, but I’m pretty sure if I’m high than they won’t let me see Eds, and I gotta be here when that bitch Sonia gets out so I can go make sure he’s okay.”

“Why do you do that?” Stan said after a minute, and Richie looked over at him in confusion. Stan paused, thinking for a moment, and then looked over at Richie. Richie looked back at him, and thought about how much he definitely didn’t miss the gaze that Stan had whenever he was trying to figure someone out. Like he could see right through your bullshit lies and any facade you put up. It always made Richie feel like he could never lie to Stan, though it didn’t stop him from trying, that was for sure. “You put yourself into those stereotypes.” Stan said, and Richie didn’t look any less confused. “You never started getting high until rumors went around that you did, you never started hooking up with people until that asshole went around saying you slept with him. It’s like you want those rumors to be true.”

“How do you know those rumors didn’t start going around because they’re actually true?” Richie said with a raised eyebrow, and Stan felt a slight wave of dread wash over him. Richie was starting to get defensive and put some walls up at the questions that Stan was asking, he could feel it.

“Because I know you, Richie, I know you’re not like that.” Stan said, and Richie pushed off the wall that he was leaning against, pulling out another cigarette but not lighting it yet, twirling it in his fingers like he needed something to do.

“You _used_ to know me.” Richie corrected, a frown on his face, and Stan looked down. “We may be going through all of this shit right now, which has brought all of us back together, but it doesn’t change what happened two years ago. Neither does apologies, even if we forgive them. A lot happened over two years, Stan.” Richie said, but none of this came out harshly or with anger. Instead, it came out with a sort of tired but firm tone, and Stan felt a pang of sadness, because it was true. “A lot. I started sleeping around because the guy that I fell in love with abandoned me, and took all of my friends with him. And just a reminder, who I sleep with isn’t your business, and neither is why I did it. You weren’t there for that part of my life. None of you were. You don’t get to judge it.”

“I wasn’t-” Stan started, but Richie shook his head. When his hand came up to light the cigarette, it was shaking so much the flame almost went out.

“Yes, you were, Stan.” He said quietly, and guilt flooded through Stan’s mind. Because if he was being honest, he was. He just couldn’t understand what drove Richie from being careless and free but almost careful to recklessly doing whatever got him high enough. “But it’s fine. If I were in your place, I would probably do the same thing. And look- maybe you’re right. Maybe I do want the rumors to be true. But something to think about? If people expect the worst from you, they’re never disappointed when it turns out to be true.” With that, Richie snuffed out that cigarette too and gave Stan a tired smile, before brushing past him and ducking inside of the hospital once again.

 

~*~

 

Bill shot awake, tumbling out of the uncomfortable, plastic hospital chair and onto the cold floor with a gasp. Immediately, Bev was there, looking concerned. “Bill? Are you okay?”

He waved her off, sitting up and trying to slow his breathing. His chest felt tight, like something was squeezing his lungs and refusing to let him breathe, and he shut his eyes, thinking. His thoughts mostly centered around the dream that had startled him awake. It had just been images, for the most part- flashes of the abandoned hospital, the pools of blood on the floor, the dead pig, and then the fight that had almost tore his father away from his family years ago. Of course, Zach hadn’t left- but nothing had been the same after. Bill could hardly remember the night before, and now… now it was clear as day in his mind, causing him to be unusually quiet as he mulled it over and what it could mean.

_“This is a nightmare!” Zach’s voice came through Bill’s bedroom door, and he stirred, sleepy blue eyes opening._

_“You need to calm down.” His mother’s voice came through next, much gentler but sounding more worried._

_“Don’t tell me to calm down!” He snapped back at her, and 8 year old Bill frowned, not liking the mean tone in his father’s voice._

_“Please, you’ll wake Bill-” Sharon pleaded, and Zach gave an angry laugh._

_“That’s what you’re worried about? Waking Bill?”_

_“I don’t want him to hear this.” She said, and Bill opened the door to his bedroom and peeked out, feet making no noise against the carpet floor._

_“Maybe he should! We can’t keep lying to him.” Zach said, voice sounding harsh and cold. Bill didn’t like it at all, coming down the steps but staying in the shadows so that he could peer out and watch them without either of them knowing that he was down there._

_“He’s just a child!” She said, and her tone was starting to turn angry, too._

_“How could you keep that from me?” He changed the subject away from Bill, back to what they were discussing in the first place._

_“Having the baby was_ **_my_ ** _decision.” She hissed, and he scowled._

_“You should have told me.” He said angrily, and she shook her head defiantly._

_“Why? Would you have wanted it?” When he didn’t respond immediately, her glare intensified. “No. It was MY choice!”_

_“I can’t do this.” Zach turned away, and Sharon crossed her arms over her chest, glare never easing up once._

_“Fine. Then leave.” As soon as the words left her mouth, he had turned, walking out and slamming the door shut behind him._

He had come back about a month later and, reluctantly, Sharon had accepted him back into her life. Into their life. But Bill couldn’t help but wonder what baby they were talking about, and it made him uneasy. Both he and Georgie had been planned and his father had no problem with either of them, so surely it couldn’t be them, could it? Then who else?

And that had been when the dream dissolved into more pictures of the abandoned hospital. But this time, it was solely focused on the pictures that had been on the walls around where Brandon James had his surgeries. He just couldn’t read what they said, but something lingered on him mind- he knew that those pictures were important. He just couldn’t figure out why.


	34. Seth Palmer

A day later was all it took for Bill to finally give up on trying to pretend the dream didn’t happen. He texted Richie, knowing that he’d have the footage from that night, and waited impatiently for him to respond. Luckily for him, Richie didn’t seem to have anything better to do.

_Bill: You still up?_

**_Rich: ofc. sleep? i don’t know him_ **

**_Rich: what’s up? u ok?_ **

_Bill: Depends who you ask. Can you send me the video?_

_Bill: From the abandoned hospital?_

**_Rich: sure thing. what are you looking for?_ **

_Bill: Not sure yet. Thanks_

**_Rich: no problem_ **

**_Rich: [video attachment]_ **

Bill clicked on the video, skipping through parts of it until he got into the part that he wanted and pausing it. He zoomed in quietly, and dread filled his stomach, heart dropping. There was an ultrasound pinned up on the wall, along with multiple other different x-rays, but Bill’s focus was on the name in the top right corner of the ultrasound. He zoomed in, biting his lip to distract himself just the tiniest bit as he squinted, trying to make out the name.

Sharon Anderson.

His mother’s name.

But what was an ultrasound from his mother doing in a room about Brandon James?

 

~*~

 

“What exactly are we looking for?” Bev questioned as she dug around in bookshelves, the empty classroom weirdly silent. They had broken into the school to search Mr. Branson’s classroom, in the hopes of finding something that would show what exactly he was up to. So far, no such luck.

“I don’t know.” Ben admitted. “But with the malware gone, we need something more before we can call the Sheriff.” He said, going through Mr. Branson’s desk with the slight stirrings of guilt. That guilt was quickly brushed away, though, when he remembered that Mr. Branson might be the one responsible for this.

There was another long pause of silence as they searched, and then Bev spoke again. “Hey, I think there’s something up there.” She said, dragging a chair over and climbing up on top of it to peer at into the vent right about the bookshelf she had previously been searching through. With a faint grunt she pulled off the vent cover and handed it down to Ben, who set it one top of one of the desks and grabbed a chair as well. He got on top of it and shone his flashlight inside, and Bev let out a low whistle. Ben reached out to grab the stuff, but in a sudden panic, Bev pushed his hand away. When he looked at her questioningly, she frowned. “The last time that we tampered with evidence, Eddie was publicly outed.” She reminded him, and he gave a grim nod of agreement, understanding in his gaze.

They both got down from the chairs after putting the vent cover back into place, just as Ben’s voice gave a chime. He pulled it out, looking startled but also slightly pleased with himself. “We just got a hit on Mr. Branson’s real identity.” He said, and showed the screen to Bev. **SETH BRANSON,** it read, **PREVIOUSLY KNOWN AS SETH PALMER.** Ben gave a small smile, looking up at her. “Now we can call the sheriff.”

 

~*~

 

“Seth Branson used to be Seth Palmer.” Ben said, explaining to the Sheriff as the Sheriff looked through everything that had been hidden in the vent above the bookshelf. “Back in 2015 he was teaching at a small liberal arts college in New Hampshire, when he had an affair with this 18 year old girl.”

“Slightly ick,” Bev added, “But not illegal.”

“But then she turned up dead.” Ben went on, and the Sheriff glanced over at him. “Palmer was a suspect, until he disappeared…”

“And became our Mr. Branson,” Bev finished quietly.

There was a small moment of silence, and the Sheriff frowned. “Why were the two of you even looking into him in the first place?”

 _“Seriously?”_ Bev asked incredulously. “There’s a bloody knife in a bag and you’re concerned about-” she broke off, realization dawning on her. “Wait. Do you… do you seriously think we _planted this?”_

The Sheriff considered his words carefully. “I just asked a simple question.”

Bev stared at him, and Ben started to talk before she could. “We found evidence that he’s been cyber-spying on the whole town. Or, at least, helping Greta and Victor do it.”

“What evidence?” The Sheriff looked more intrigued than accusatory now, and Bev relaxed just a tad bit.

“Malware that was attached to his online homework. I think that Audra found out about it, or… or even helped… and he decided to erase every last trace. Including her and the rest of them.”

“And he was conveniently “out of town” during the whole bowling alley thing.” Bev nodded, and the Sheriff frowned deeply, thinking hard. He dropped the bloody knife he had been holding back into the plastic bag and sighed. There was also a disposable phone and there, which he had already gone through. It contained text to Bill Denbrough, texts that were definitely from who had been harassing her and her family. Everything about this looked pretty incriminating. He drummed his fingers on the desk, and finally, pulled out his police radio.

“Dan, this is Hud.” He said into it. “Put out an APB on Seth Branson.”

 

~*~

 

“Mr. Branson, you wanted to see me?” Mike said, looking around the theater room in confusion. The lighting was dim in here, and he was curious as the why Mr. Branson had requested to see him after school hours. He walked along the empty rows of chairs facing the stage, and waited a minute, but no reply came.

“Mr. Branson?” He called again, louder, and saw a dark figure stand up.

 

~*~

 

“Bill?” Sharon asked in confusion, and Bill didn’t smile or greet her or say anything at first, which was unusual for him. He stared at her for a minute, unsure if he really wanted to do this, before decided that he had to know.

“Who’s u-ultrasound is this?” He said quietly, and held it up. Something in her gaze changed from confused and tired to closed off and upset.

“Where did you get that?”

“Someone m-muh-murdered Audra, and almost k-killed Stan _right in front of me,_ and th-this might be the reason wh-why.” He said, and she slowly set her bag down, looking exhausted from work but not too tired to talk about this. Not that she was sure she would ever be ready for this conversation. She sat down across from him, and he watched her expectantly.

“I didn’t leave town because of the press, or because I was sick.” She said after a moment, staring down at the ultrasound with a distant and sad expression.

“It’s b-b-because you were pregnant.” He murmured. He had already figured it out, but he wasn’t sure- and he wasn’t about to go around spreading theories to the Losers if they weren’t true. Last time, it hadn’t ended well.

Sharon nodded, quiet. “I had the baby, and gave it up for adoption. I was sixteen; my parents made all of the arrangements. It was a closed adoption, and they kept me out of it…” her voice sounded slightly tearful this time, and in spite of everything, guilt flooded Bill’s chest. Maybe he should have waited until she had gotten a proper amount of sleep before confronting her about it, but it was too late now. “I didn’t even get to know if it was a boy or girl.” She whispered. “Afterwards, we moved back into Derry, and into a new house. I went back to school, and… and reconnected with your father. And I tried really hard to make a new life.”

“B-But he wasn’t th-the father.” Bill inferred, and his mother’s deep intake of breath answered his question for him.

“Remember I told you that your dad and I were having problems?” There was a small pause, and she looked down. “We were at the bowling alley one night when I found out that he slept with one of my best friends. Brandon… he heard me crying outside, and drove me home. I was so hurt, and… and angry… and he was so kind… it just… happened.” Bill could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, and reached out, taking her hand quietly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. As soon as he did her face crumpled, and the tears started falling. “I’m sorry for lying to you, I just… I have so many regrets about so many things…” Bill shushed her gently, and moved forward, giving her a tight hug. For the first time ever, he noticed that she was small and fragile in his arms, and couldn’t ever remember a time when she had felt like that before. “I hope you can understand.” She whispered.

“Mom…” he said, and pulled away gently. She wiped her tears and sniffed, and more guilt washed over him. “O-Of course I underst-stand. But the killer w-wuh-wanted me to find th-this, so somebody e-else knows.”

“Wh-what if…” he said slowly, looking up at her, “the child th-that you gave up… is b-back?”


	35. In the Spotlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this one's a bit of a filler. Tomorrow's will be better :)

“Mike, I wanted to talk to you about your scene. I have some good suggestions for you, I don’t really think your current one-” Mr. Branson started, but was cut off by a thump in the back part of the stage. He looked startled, and glanced over at Mike. “Did you hear that?”

Alarm started to worm its way through him, but Mike just gave a shrug like he didn’t care. “It was probably nothing.” He already didn’t like being here alone with Mr. Branson, one of the Loser’s suspects. And now creepy, mysterious noises? No thanks. “I don’t really see why we couldn’t have talked about this in class, Mr. B.”

Mr. Branson simply looked at him for a moment, and unease showed in Mike’s gaze as Mr. Branson took a slow step forward. “I’m afraid this isn’t something that I could do in public.” He murmured, and Mike’s whole body went tense, taking a stumbling step back. He expected Mr. Branson to whip out a knife any moment and plunge it into his chest.

Instead, Mr. Branson gave a small smirk, gaze travelling down Mike’s body and back up again. Mike felt like he was gonna be sick. “Do what, exactly…?” He said, but he knew with a sinking feeling in his chest exactly what it was.

“Well, I was thinking something along the lines of…” Mr. B took a step forward again and Mike’s back hit the wall, a growing feeling of uncomfort making him feel trapped, like he couldn’t breathe. Mr. Branson leaned forward, close enough that Mike could feel his breath on his face, but another, louder thump came from behind him. Mike jumped, and Mr. B turned away from him, causing Mike to let out a small, inaudible gasp of relief, ducking away from him while he was distracted.

“I’ll go see what that is.” Mr. Branson said grudgingly, and made his way behind the curtains backstage. As soon as he was out of view Mike turned and grabbed the door handle, but as he tried to twist it, it wouldn’t budge. He peered through the tiny, rectangular window and saw that it was locked- from the outside. _The fuck?_

Mike sat down against the door, waiting for Mr. Branson to come back so that he could use his teacher’s key to unlock the door. But after a couple minutes, there was no sign of him, and Mike was starting to get worried, pulling himself up on the stage and walking back behind the curtains. “Mr. B?” He called, and still there was no response, but everything suddenly shut off, the room going pitch black. Mike frowned, making his way back to the stage and peering out nervously. “Mr. Branson?”

Two lights went on with a loud click, the colors red and pink flooding the stage where Mike was standing. “Look, Mr. B, I’m really not interested-” as Mike spoke, the big spotlight came on as well, but way too bright. He couldn’t see anything out past the stage, and fear was starting to take over. The majority of the room- where the audience sat- was completely dark to him, except for a figure walking down one of the aisles. Mike couldn’t see the face, and backed up just a little bit. He called out warily, “Mr. Branson?”

There was no response, and Mike knew with sudden certainty that it wasn’t Mr. Branson. But before he could back away more and make a break for it, the figure lunged at him, knife out and glinting against the light. There was a sharp sting on his upper arm and he gave a small yelp of surprise, breaking into a sprint to get away. His arm was starting to bleed, and it was staining his light grey shirt red. He spotted a door leading into the props room, and relief flooded through him- Mike squeezed through the small gap in the door just in time, slamming it shut behind him with a lot of force. That door got stuck a lot, and barely opened past what a person Eddie’s size could squeeze through, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The person outside stilled, the mask staring back at him through the door’s tiny window, before they sank back into the shadows.

Then flashlights shone outside the windows, and the sound of footsteps filled the room. A police man’s voice, maybe Sheriff Hudson, Mike couldn’t tell through the door, called through the air, “Seth Branson! Put your hands up, you’re under arrest!”

 

~*~

 

**DERRY COUNTY MUNICIPAL RECORDS**

_ONE YEAR AGO_

 

Getting in was almost too easy. Breaking into the vault? Even easier. Stealing the evidence from the Brandon James case? Well, would it be wrong to say it was easier than the first two?

 

~*~

 

**PRESENT DAY**

_“Hey guys, it’s Nancy Wheeler, with a special Halloween podcast of Autopsy of a Crime. So when looking for connections about Derry’s murders, past and present, I had to wonder about Brandon’s mask. Turns out, it disappeared from the evidence locker last year and was never reported. If I were Sheriff Hudson, I’d be looking at the chief suspect’s whereabouts the time that the mask went missing. But even then, what’s Seth Branson’s, or rather, Seth Palmer’s, connection to Brandon James? Why become the monster behind the mask?”_

 

~*~

 

“We found this knife in your classroom. Any idea how it got there?” Sheriff Hudson stared Seth Branson down from across the interrogation table, but Seth didn’t look the least bit concerned.

“No.”

“It had traces of Patrick Hockstetter’s blood on it.” Sheriff Hudson said, and Seth raised his eyebrows, looking very unimpressed.

“It’s not. My. Knife.” He said simply, and the Sheriff scowled.

“Look, we know you’re involved in the webcam spying.” Sheriff Hudson said, waiting for an explanation for only a brief moment before continuing on. “Look, with your evidence from the webcam, along with your assault on a student named Michael Hanlon, we-”

“I wasn’t hurting Mike.” He interrupted with a scowl.

“Right, right. Because you cared about him. You made that pretty clear.” Sheriff Hudson said, nose wrinkled slightly. “A minor? Really? And would you care to tell me about this?” He slid forward a folder, with the young girl’s picture that had turned up dead in New Hampshire around the same time Seth had come over here. “You cared about her, too, right?” When Seth stayed silent, staring at the picture, Sheriff Hudson kept pushing. “When your name was Seth Palmer? And she turned up dead?”

“I think I’m gonna wait for my lawyer.” Seth said smoothly, and Sheriff Hudson leaned back.

“Yeah, I thought you might.”

 

~*~

 

“Trick or treating ends at sundown.” Sheriff Hudson said into the headphones at the conference. News reporters trained their cameras on him, along with Nancy Wheeler, something he was starting to get used to. Derry had been attracting a lot more attention with the murders going on, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he liked it. “For everyone’s safety, we ask no masks be worn. And, of course, the annual Halloween Dance will be a fundraiser for the victim’s families this year.” He said, and gave a strained smile. “Thank you.”

Just before he could pull away, though, Nancy Wheeler spoke up, looking confused and uncertain. “You’re still holding the Halloween Dance? After all of these murders?”

Sheriff Hudson reluctantly got back up on the podium to answer her questions. “Miss Wheeler, we share your concern, but we’re fairly certain that we’ve got the right man in custody. That’s all. Thank you.”

 

~*~

 

“Sheriff!” Nancy Wheeler’s voice rang through the previously silent alley, and he tried not to scowl, lifting his cigarette back up to his lips one more time before stubbing it out. “I know this dance will be _irresistible_ to this killer, if it isn’t Seth Branson.”

“We’ll have security on sight.” He brushed her off. “Having all of these kids at once place will be safer than having to cover a dozen house parties.”

“You sound defensive.” She observed, and he shook his head.

“I’m just doing my best to keep the peace.” He said and brushed past her, shoulder colliding with hers purposely as he did so. “What about you?”


	36. Oops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia and some racism.

“Sorry it’s not exactly a hotel suite, Eds, but it’s better than being trapped at your place.” Richie said, and Eddie set down his bag at the foot of Richie’s bed and flopped down onto it with a soft and tired groan.

“It’s fine.” He said, and Richie sat down next to him.

“So how long do you think you’ll be staying?” He asked, and Eddie shrugged miserably.

“Until she decides that she doesn’t need to yell at me anymore and trap me in my room. I got her to back off for a little bit in the hospital, but now she’s back with a passion.” He sighed, sitting up and leaning against Richie’s shoulder. “Can we talk about this later? I’m tired.”

Richie nodded, thinking about that day at the hospital. Sonia had come storming out of the room, tears streaming down her face, and almost immediately Richie had shrunk back slightly behind Bill to make himself less noticeable, hoping that-

 _Somehow it would work and she wouldn’t attempt to do something crazy, like claim that he stole something and get him kicked out. He watched her as she angrily walked up to Bill, spit flying as she talked in a fury. “What is_ **_wrong_ ** _with all of you? You’ve corrupted him, and now he’s sick and dying!” She said dramatically, and Richie openly rolled his eyes. Almost immediately she turned on him, scowling and jabbing her fat finger in his face. “And you! You’re just like your father, a stupid, ignorant drunk who gets high for kicks! You’re a slut and you disgust me.” She snarled, tear filled eyes trained on him. He wondered what Eddie said to her to make her this furious with him._

_“B-Back off, Mrs. Kuh-K.” Bill said firmly, moving in front of Richie but not really able to completely cover the taller boy from view._

_“And you,” she snapped at Bill. “You’re no better than him. Associating yourself with these boys? I would’ve expected better. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such a stuttering fr-”_

_“I suggest you stop right there.” Stan said angrily, an expression seen on him very rarely. He didn’t move, though, and she didn’t seem at all threatened by him._

_“I bet you’re all faggots, aren’t you?” She spat, venom in her voice. “You’re making Eddie sick, and you’re no good for him, can’t you see that? He deserves_ **_much_ ** _better than you.”_

_“At least we’re better than a mother who practically suffocates her son and tricks him into believing he has non-existant diseases.” Richie snapped at her, starting to get angry as well. This time, Sonia did look a little unnerved, but did not back down._

_“I do not!” She hissed. “And I think I’m a lot better than a Negro, a redhead, a fat kid,” Ben tensed, and Bev felt anger start to pulse through her as well. She knew that even though Ben had lost a lot of wait, all of the bullying over the years had caused him to get self conscious, no matter how much he weighed. “A drunk junkie who’s exactly like his father and whore of a mother,” at this, Richie lunged forward at her, and Stan grabbed him just in time, calmer than before. He held him back with surprising strength as Richie growled, brown eyes almost black with anger. “And a stuttering freak.” She finished._

_“Oops,” Stan said, and then his fingers, well… slipped. Yeah, that’s what happened._

_Richie lunged forward, now free of Stan’s grip, and there was a loud crack that echoed through the room. And then Sonia was staggering back, blood trickling down from her nose as she gasped in shock and pain. She let out a scream, which was a touch dramatic, if you asked Richie. Nurses rushed out, and Sonia pointed her finger at Richie, still screaming. “HE ATTACKED ME!” She screamed over and over again. “ARREST HIM! HE ATTACKED ME! ARREST HIM!”_

_Richie put his hands in the air as security surrounded him, proceeding to shove him roughly out the door._

He wasn’t arrested, but he was banned from the hospital unless there were emergency medical needs. Eddie had gotten out about an hour later, so he wasn’t that bothered by it.

Eddie laid down on the bed once again, and this time Richie laid down beside him, relaxing. It had been a long day, especially with Sonia barely letting out of the hospital. Actually, she didn’t. Eddie had just had enough and walked out, mostly a decision made after she repeated to him over and over how terrible Richie was for him and that she was grounding him.

Richie closed his eyes, and Eddie nuzzled into his side, giving a quiet sigh and relaxing. Richie brushed a strand of hair out of Eddie’s face and Eddie’s lips twitched up slightly, in a small smile, but otherwise he didn’t acknowledge it in any way, letting himself fall asleep to the rhythmic, easy pattern of Richie’s breathing.

 

~*~

 

Bill handed his mom the coffee cup and sat down beside her, glancing at the computer screen curiously. “Wh-What’s up?”

“Well, I ordered a DNA panel on Seth Branson.” She said, and then paused and added, “And a maternity test for me.” She glanced over at him. “For all those years ago. But it’ll take a few days.”

“I kn-know how hard that m-muh-must be.” He said softly, and she shrugged quietly, looking back at the screen.

“I just want it to be over.” She murmured, and he nodded in agreement, going silent for a minute before uncertainly speaking again.

“I-I need to talk t-t-to Branson.” He said quietly, and her gaze shot up, away from the computer screen and to him.

“Absolutely not. We need to let Clark do his job.” She said dismissively, and Bill shook his head.

“I-I can’t just w-wuh-wait.”

“He’s gathering evidence, disposing witnesses-” She started, but he cut her off.

“I _am_ a w-witness. I-If he really is th-the one doing th-this to me- us- then he’s g-g-gonna have a reaction wh-when he sees m-muh-me.” Sharon shook her head, but Bill continued to press. “I need to l-look in his eyes.” He said, voice softening slightly. “I need to know.”

 

~*~

 

Bill entered the interrogation room silently, sitting across from Mr. Branson at the table. Mr. B was in handcuffs, and looked pretty terrible if Bill was being honest. He had beard stubble and his hair was a mess. He also had bags under his brown eyes, and a permanent expression of not caring on his face, probably so that he didn’t give anything away.

As soon as Bill took a seat, Mr. Branson gave a small smile that made Bill’s insides give a little twist. “Hello, Bill.”

“Hi, Mr. Branson.” Bill said evenly, though underneath the table, his hands were starting to shake. He clenched them into a fist in an attempt to get them to stop, keeping his gaze on Mr. B.

“What are you doing here?” Mr. Branson asked, tilting his head.

“You know wh-what I’m d-d-doing here.” Bill said, face composed, and Mr. Branson simply looked amused.

“No, I don’t.” He disagreed, leaning back into his chair. “They won’t even tell me if Mike’s okay.” At this, Bill said nothing, though his disgust grew even more. “I know they’re saying a lot of terrible things about me.” Mr. Branson said, “But I did not kill Patrick. I don’t even know where that knife…” he trailed off, seeing that Bill didn’t look the least bit sympathetic or impressed.

“Mr. Branson… whatever y-your name i-i-is.” Bill said coldly, leaning forward. “My fr-friends are being t-t-targeted. Killed. And y-you kn-know why.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Mr. Branson said smoothly, and Bill narrowed his eyes, anger and frustration whirling deep inside him. “What is this?” He said, but this time his gaze was not on Bill. It was on the camera in the corner of the room. He scoffed, glaring straight at it. “Do you guys think I’m gonna have some kind of breakdown and tell everything to one of my students?” Then, he turned his gaze back on Bill. “Why are you letting him use you like this?”

“I w-w-wanted this.” Bill snapped at him angrily.

“Oh? Really? Well, I’m a captive audience.” Mr. B leaned forward, elbows on the table as he pretended to be super interested. “So please. Go ahead. Clearly, you have something you’d like to say to me.”

“D-Did you find out the tr-truth about who you a-are? Is th-that why you came to D-D-Derry?” Bill said, narrowing his eyes and not giving into Mr. Branson’s act.

“You mean is that why I changed my name? I can’t talk about my past, Bill.” He said with a frown.

Bill took a deep breath, and exhaled. “Wh-what about my mother?”

“What about her?” He said, and looked genuinely confused. “She’s… nice. You look a lot like her.” He said, and Bill fought the urge not to lean away from him.

“Y-You said that th-this ends w-w-with me.” Bill said, changing the subject quickly. “So d-does this mean that i-it’s over.” There was a long pause, and Bill met Mr. Branson’s gaze as evenly as he could, quiet.

Eventually, he spoke. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bill scoffed slightly, but Mr. B continued. “But considering that I’m stuck in here… I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

 

~*~

 

“Oh my god.” Richie breathed, staring at the ultrasound on Bill’s laptop. Bill just looked miserable, frowning. “Branson is your… oh my god.”

“Okay. C-Can you please st-stop saying th-that and help me?” He shut the laptop, and Richie looked guilty only for a short second.

“Sorry, but can we just take a minute to think about the fact that your mom… who wears cardigans and drives SUVs… had a baby with Brandon James?” Richie said, mouth parted with surprise and slight awe. Eddie smacked his shoulder.

“Stop it.” He hissed in Richie’s ear, and Richie muttered back a quick, “Sorry.”

“Okay, yeah, we got it, Richie.” Bev said, watching Bill quietly.

“Th-the thing th-that I could never f-figure out was why he was a-a-attacking my family. But if Br-Branson _is_ my family, th-than the whole th-thing makes sense.”

“Well, what happened when you sat across from him?” Bev asked.

“He played it pretty cool.” Bill said, and Richie bit back a comment about exactly how helpful that was, knowing it wasn’t the time.

“Bran son. Branson. Brandon’s son. That redefines hiding in plain sight.” Bev said with a small bit of humor in her voice, and now Richie was serious, frowning.

“But there’s still no connection to Branson and Ash.” He said, not noticing that Eddie glanced over at him for a brief second.

“Maybe we just h-h-haven’t found it y-yet.” Bill shrugged, and Richie frowned, looking down. His brown eyes were troubled and upset.

“The news reports don’t even mention his name in their articles.” He said bitterly. “It’s like they forgot his suicide was staged.” Eddie took Richie’s hand after he finished, giving it a small squeeze.

“Look, R-Richie, I know you w-w-want the truth.  So let’s f-find it.”

“We’re on it.” Bev said with a small smile, grabbing Richie’s other hand and tugging him up from the couch, dragging him out of his thoughts. They were at the cafe, and Bill was supposed to be working- but he had taken this opportunity to update the three of them on what was happening. As they were leaving, they passed Nancy Wheeler, who sat down across from Bill on the couch as soon as they were gone.

“Hey, Nancy.” Bill said with a faint smile, glancing up at the girl who was starting to feel kind of like an older sister to him, even though she was from far away and had different parents.

“Hey. So, big day, huh?” She said with a small smile back at him. “Killer’s caught, stress is relieved, and now everything can go back to normal.”

“Wh-why do you sound d-d-disappointed?” Bill asked, amusement in his voice now, and she shrugged.

“A lead I was following up didn’t pan out the way I hoped it would.” She said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Wh-what lead? What is i-it?” Bill asked curiously.

“‘It’ was more of a ‘who’. Cassie James. Brandon’s mother.”

“Y-You found her?” Bill said, staring at her with wide eyes, and she nodded, looking slightly pleased with herself.

“She changed her name but I traced her through her social security number.” Nancy said. “She’s living right outside of Derry.”

“D-Did you talk t-t-to her?”

“She rambled, mostly.” Nancy said. “Incoherent stuff. I was just hoping for an interview that would tie the past and present murders together. But it was a long shot. I just had to see for myself, you know?”

Bill nodded. “Y-yeah, I know the feeling. I th-think… I think we might be a-able to help each o-other out.”


	37. The Lakehouse

“Mrs. James, Bill would like to ask you about Brandon. Is that okay?” Nancy said gently. Cassie James sat across from her, gray hair neatly curled, but looking more tired than ever. Bill said beside Nancy, nervous but not showing it.

“You’re just gonna tell a monster story.” She said, waving her hand. “That’s all they wanna hear.”

“No, I-I-I’m not a re-reporter.” Bill said gently. “My m-muh-mom was your neighbor. Sh-She was friends with Br-Br-Branon. She t-told me th-th-that he was very n-nice to her.” His stutter was acting up, and he hated it, hated the way that she glanced over at him in surprise as soon as it started, but he tried to ignore it. His voice did get more tentative as he went on, and eventually, he trailed off. She watched him carefully, before eventually speaking.

“Brandon was my golden years child- I was nearly 50 when I had him.” She said, gaze flickering over Bill with familiarity, like she was imagining his as Brandon. Her gaze was a little spaced out, like she was back in the past. “Ed said the egg was old.” She frowned deeply, shaking her head. “That’s why the boy had his issues. And that boy suffered so....” she trailed off, before blinking and settling her gaze back on his face. “Your mom was… Daisy.” She said in sudden realization, and a faint smile ghosted over her face. “Of course, now I see the resemblance.” She nodded to herself, thinking.

“I saw you outside.” She continued, glancing out of the window as if to emphasize her point. “Trying to get up the nerve to come in and talk to me.” Her gaze was still out the window, and Bill had a feeling she wasn’t talking about him anymore.

“Talk a-a-about wh-what?” He said tentatively.

“Oh, you know.” She said, and paused. Bill wasn’t sure if she was going to go on, but just before he could say something, she did. “I kept Brandon home to keep him safe. He met you and… and he _begged_ me to let him get a job at the bowling alley.” She sounded upset, a deep frown on her face now. “He’d do anything for you.” Then her voice turned bitter, angry and full of despair. “You got him killed.”

Bill blinked, startled, as she turned her gaze onto him. But it was like she was seeing right through him, like he wasn’t even there. “I- I d-didn’t-” Bill stammered, mentally cursing his stutter and not able to force the words through his traitorous mouth.

“So much pain,” she moaned, upset. “Why did you take him from me? Why, Daisy?” She whispered, and Bill stood up slowly, upset, too.

“I’m s-s-sorry, we shouldn’t have b-buh-bothered y-you.” He said, and started to leave, when a haunting and familiar tune started to tumble from the old woman’s lips.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do…” She mumbled, and he nearly tripped, stumbling in his haste to turn and look at her. “He loved that song…” She murmured under her breath. “And so did his boy.” Tears were filling her eyes, but Bill sat back down again so he could keep pressing her, starting to get desperate.

“Wh-what boy, Mrs. J-J-James?”

“Brandon’s son… he was here the other day.” She hugged a couch pillow tight to her chest, distraught.

“Do you remember his name?” Nancy asked, leaning forward and gaze set on Mrs. James, intense.

She thought for a minute, rubbing her temple. “Steve? No… Keith? No, that can’t be…” she mumbled to herself, and Bill swallowed hard.

“W-was it S-S-Seth?” He asked quietly, frozen in place.

“Seth…” she said, thinking it over, and then smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s it. He was handsome, so handsome. Just like an old time movie star. And he wanted to know all about his father.” Bill sat back, not able to breathe. “Wanted to know all about his father.” Cassie repeated to herself, and then started to sing again. “Daisy, Daisy…”

 

~*~

 

“I’ve got some new information, so listen up.” Richie said, plopping down on the couch beside Bev and kicking his feet up on the table. He set his laptop on his lap and started to type, pulling things up on it. “So, Ash practically lived with his camera, right?” He said, and Bev gave a hum of agreement, watching him. They were at Richie’s workplace, and he was supposed to be at the register checking customers out, but no one was there and so they were taking this time to come up with theories.

“So I was looking back through his files a while ago, and everything was gone. Wiped from her computer.” Richie continued, glancing over at her. Bev frowned, considering it.

“It’s just like how Greta’s spy cam network just up and disappeared. You think Ash might have caught Branson doing something on tape?” She said, tilting her head, and Richie typed against the keyboard, mostly to distract himself just slightly.

“That would explain the suicide.” Richie said after a moment.

“Cleaning up loose ends. But… if all that footage was deleted…”

“Ash backed everything up in the cloud.” Richie said suddenly, a grin spreading across his face. “And I have his password. So…”

“Time for a raw film footage festival.” Bev said dryly, sarcasm dripping from her tone as she muttered, “Yay.”

 

~*~

 

“Do you remember the burner phone from Mr. Branson’s classroom?” Sheriff Hudson said to Sharon Denbrough, staring at the map with six pins in it absentmindedly. She gave a little hum to acknowledge that yes, she did, and he continued. “I matched up the call records with Bill’s phone. These white dots are the cell towers pinged. And… they all originated here.” He gestured to a point on the map with a frown. “By the lake. Far from Branson’s house and the school.”

“His lawyers will be all over that.” Sharon said grimly, studying the map, and Sheriff Hudson nodded in agreement.

“I could really use a witness tying him to these to these calls.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and she sat back, thinking.

“The summer season is pretty quiet down there.” She observed, and he nodded slowly.

“I’ll go check it out down there, see if I can find someone who can ID him.” He murmured, and she tilted her head, watching him as she sipped her coffee.

“Don’t we have deputies for that?”

“Maybe it’s a little bit of a punishment.” He sighed, guilt filling him. “I’m not gonna have another Audra Phillips.”

 

~*~

 

Sheriff Hudson got out of the police car, shutting the door behind him and walking up the driveway of the empty lakehouse. It was silent, almost eerie, and he swore he’d never get used to situations like this. Yeah, he was a cop, but that didn’t mean he liked creepy things by any means. He peered inside a car that was parked in the open driveway, but nothing was inside- it was clean enough to be a rental car, so he kept going past it, knocking on the front door quietly. There were six panes of glass on it, but all were blurred so he couldn’t see inside. When no answer came to his knock, he called out warily, “Hello? Anyone home?”

There was no response, and he exhaled softly, taking out his police radio as he slowly made his way back to the garage. “Terry, I need you to run a plate for me.” He said into it.

“Go ahead,” Terry said through the radio, the crackling noise filling the air, and he rattled off the car plate. “Three, Union, Foxtrot, Eight, Hotel, Two, Seven.”

“Copy that.” Came the reply, and Sheriff Hudson tucked his radio back where it had been and made his way back up to the house once again.

It was pretty nice and pretty big, and Sheriff Hudson wondered vaguely how a guy on a teacher’s salary could afford this place, along with his own home and two cars. He opened the door, which, to his surprise, was unlocked, and called out once again, “Sheriff’s department. Anyone here?”

After waiting a couple minutes for a response and not receiving one, he assumed that no one was inside and stepped into what seemed like the kitchen. He picked his way around everything gingerly, not wanting to mess anything up in case someone was actually staying here at the moment, and made his way into the living room. It opened up into a large room, complete with a leather couch, a fireplace, and windows that viewed the lake and the gardens. He glanced out them, a slight smile making its way onto his face. The gardens were beautiful, though they were starting to die because of the cold weather that was starting to set in once again.

A computer chimed behind him, and though his heart leapt in his chest he didn’t physically move for a second, forcing himself to calm down before turning and seeing what the noise had been and where it had come from. He made his way into the next room, where the sound had come from, and on top of what looked like a dining table there sat a computer. It was open and on, and a bunch of different camera screens flickered across it, recordings. There were multiple of the police stations, and what looked like seven- no, eight different houses. Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon, and… Kieran Wilcox. He hadn’t seen Kieran around with the other boys and Beverly, but he assumed that he was part of their group as well.

As Sheriff Hudson was thinking this over a rattling noise came from behind him, and this time he did jump, whirling around and taking his gun out automatically. He aimed it in the direction that the noise had come from, flicking the safety off and taking cautious steps forward. “Sheriff’s department. Anyone home?”

But as he crept around the table, and made his way into the next room, he didn’t see the cloaked figure lingering behind him, complete with a white mask frozen in a scream. He didn’t see it until the iron fire poker was hitting him across the forehead, sending him to the ground with blood seeping slowly from a wound, darkness slowly taking over.

 

~*~

 

Richie stared at himself in the mirror somewhat nervously, adjusting his top and running his fingers through his tangled, curly hair. Usually, he wouldn’t give a damn about whether or not it cooperated, but tonight was the dance and he somehow managed to convince Eddie to go with him. Sure, they were dating (which Richie still couldn’t understand, either) but still. How did Richie manage to get a fucking angel as his date?

Eddie was in the other room, insisting that he didn’t want Richie to see what he looked like until he was completely ready. If Richie was being honest, he liked the surprise.

What he didn’t like, however, was that his hair was deciding to be stubborn today, of all days. The curls just wouldn’t stay combed, and eventually, Richie gave up, giving a huff of frustration. He also had put a little bit of mascara on (what? He liked his eyelashes) and popped in his contacts. He hated wearing them, but he liked them for formal events, just because he thought he looked a lot better. They made it easier to see his freckles, which, he would admit, he loved as well, and made his eyes stand out a little bit more. But he hated putting them in when there was no need, because who really wants to stab their finger into their eye every morning when they’re only half awake?

He made one last attempt to make his hair stay down and then exhaled, forcing himself to breathe deep and calming breaths. _You’re gonna go out there, and tell Eds you’re ready, and then you’re gonna try not to drool over him publicly like an idiotic child, okay? And then you’re gonna go to the Halloween Dance and you’re gonna fucking slay._ He told himself firmly, and a small smile appeared on his face. _You can do this._

“Richie, are you done yet?” Eddie’s irritated voice came from the other side of the door, though slight amusement was in it as well. “I’m gonna die of old age before we get there.”

A grin split Richie’s face and he got up, grabbing his phone and sliding it into his pocket. “Coming! Just like-”

“If you say something along the lines of, ‘you will be’, I swear I will murder you,” Eddie threatened, and Richie opened up the door.

“Well in that case-” he started, opening up the door, but as soon as he did, he froze. Eddie stood in front of him, irritated gaze shifting into a one that matched Richie’s.

Eddie was wearing a black suit with blood splattered all over it, along with a white shirt underneath and a black tie. The blood splatters covered a lot of the suit and along the color, red was basically all you could see. Then, one Eddie’s neck, there was what looked like a huge gash in it, but was really just makeup. Richie didn’t know how Eddie learned to do that, but it was so realistic that Richie could barely believe Eddie was standing there living and breathing.

Richie, on the other hand, had gone all out with the makeup, but for a different reason. He was wearing black platform stilettos along with fishnet tights, that ran all the way up until they reached his belly button. He had black short shorts on, and a crop top that stopped just above where the tights ended. As for makeup, he had gone with a doll theme, making everything on his face look a little bit more perfect to the point where it was creepy, like he was a living, breathing doll, complete with the outfit.

Eddie blinked and the spell was broken, though Richie could hardly keep himself from staring even as he blinked rapidly and straightened up. “Let’s go crash a party, Eds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to put this in and I'll probably add it later, but one reason that Richie dressed up like that is partially to get the attention of Eddie and onto himself, just because he still feels like that video getting out was his fault.


	38. The Dance pt. 1

Bev watched the computer screen lazily, playing on her phone as she did so, multitasking. She had been watching the tapes from earlier after Richie had left to go to the dance, boredom starting to run through her. So far, nothing interesting had been on the tapes, though there had been a bunch of stuff from different bars. “Fights, flirting, and old men swapping stories from the bottom of a bottle,” Richie had said as an explanation. “Ash thought it was interesting, so he took videos of it.”

Yeah, well, after about four hours of videos, it wasn’t so interesting anymore. She texted the others in the big group chat that they had, though almost all of them were getting ready for the Halloween Dance. She had opted not to go, since there was no booze and cops surrounding the place. It sounding more boring than anything. But she had told them that after they should come over to a place she’d found by a small pond- it was huge, and empty, probably for the summertime. All of the lights, water, and everything still worked, and there was a pool in the backyard, along with a stash of alcohol underneath a fancy countertop in the kitchen. It was perfect for a party.

Bev sighed, leaned forward to turn off the videos when suddenly a voice in the background caught her attention. It sounded familiar, but it didn’t who it was didn’t hit her until she looked up at the screen, and when she did she almost dropped her phone.

Greta was sitting on a bar stool, laughing and drinking while a familiar figure sat next to her, with dark blonde-brown hair. She studied him, thinking, and then he turned around and got a glimpse of his face- Kieran Wilcox.

_What the hell? What are Kieran and Greta doing together?_

 

~*~

 

Walking into the Halloween Dance, Bill could barely hear himself think. The music was blaring loudly, and dim lighting made it nearly impossible to see as he shouldered his way through the crowd of people dancing to the music. The cup in his hand was almost full, the punch tasting absolutely terrible, and he was starting to get irritated. He couldn’t find Stan, nor Richie and Eddie. Mike trudged his way behind Bill, looking for the others as well. As for Beverly and Ben, they had both decided to stay home because of the lack of fun that was sure to be at the party. Now Bill was starting to wish that they had all done the same, and gone to hang out with Bev at whatever house she found. Bill gave a frustrated sigh and finally squeezed his way to the outskirts of the crowd by the door, hoping that from here he would be able to see Stan if he walked in.

An old movie was playing on the screen, Dracula, which was kind of funny because that was who Bill was supposed to be, though the most he did was pick clothes that looked like they were from fifty years ago and snap in fake fangs.

Finally, Stan stepped through the door, looked irritated with the long line to get in and the crowd of people jostling and shoving to get forward, and Bill reached out to grab his arm and pull him off to the side. Stan was supposed to be a greaser from the Outsiders, and Bill had to say, it definitely looked good on him. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a black leather jacket over the top, and his curls were more or less slicked back (or as much as they could be). He was also wearing black converses and jeans, and looked slightly out of place without his usual neat clothing.

“Hey,” Stan said with a smile, irritable mood forgotten almost as soon as he saw Bill. “Have you seen Richie and Eddie yet? Apparently, Richie is going as a doll. But a gay, stripper version. I wonder if Eddie will even let him out of the house wearing something like that.”

“D-Doubt it.” Bill said, looking amused. “And n-no, we haven’t s-s-seen them y-yet.” Bill said, just as Richie bumped into him, a huge grin on his face. He already looked a little tipsy, even though there was no alcohol in any of the drinks here. Stan looked him up and down and tried not to burst out laughing at Richie’s outfit. Yeah, he looked good in it, but Stan didn’t know how Richie had managed to stay in the closet for as long as he had when he was prone to doing things like this.

“Finally! You guys took forever to get here.” Richie complained, taking another drink of his punch and then wrinkling his nose. “This is nasty.”

“Yeah, seriously.” Bill agreed, and Eddie came up behind Richie, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than at the party.

“Maybe we should just go meet.” Eddie said, surveying the rest of them. “None of us really look like we wanna be here.”

“L-Let’s just st-stay a little longer.” Bill said, giving a small shrug. “It c-c-can’t hurt, right?”

 

~*~

 

“We have to tell them.” Bev said, pacing as she thought of what she had just seen. “We have to, I mean… we have to.”

“We don’t even know if that means something.” Ben said, frowning at the video uncertainly.

“Kieran and Greta left a bar together, Ben, and then Greta got dead. What else could have happened? We need to tell them.”

“We can’t jump to conclusions.” Ben said calmly, thinking this through. “I mean, yeah, Kieran is a little mysterious, but he’s seems nice. And doesn’t really have anything to do with us- I mean, the first time we met him was at the beginning of this year. He was a stranger- why would he do this?”

“A stranger whose parents died mysteriously, and who was at a bar with the first victim. That kind of nice?” Bev said, scowling slightly. “We’ve got to warn Bill.”

“Fine.” He said with exasperation, sitting back down on the couch and hitting play to watch the last five minutes of the video in case there was anything else. Bev stared at him like he was crazy, car keys dangling from her hand. “What?” He said defensively. “He’s not gonna kill him in the next five minutes.”

 

~*~

 

Richie’s eyes lit up as a new song came on, letting out a cheer and grabbing Eddie’s hand. “Come dance with me!” He said, and without anything further to Bill, Stan, or Mike, the two of them had gotten lost in the crowd, dancing. Bill watched them go, amused, as his phone went off with a small chime. He pulled it out of his pocket, opening up the group chat that all of the Losers had. In it was a video clip, attached by Bev, and when he opened it up he stared at it in surprise.

It was of Kieran and Greta leaving a bar together, close to around the time that she had been found murdered. He sucked in a sharp breath, and Stan frowned, leaning over to see what had gotten Bill so worried. He paused the clip, and Kieran’s gaze was focused on the camera- which, Bill thought as slight goosebumps worked their way up his arms- was being held by Ash. Another victim. “Th-this can’t be real.” He said, blinking at it in confusion, and then added more firmly, “Mr. B-Br-Branson is the killer. Th DNA i-i-is gonna pr-prove that.” He didn’t want to believe that the killer could still be out there, not after everything that had happened with Mr. Branson. “K-Kieran and Greta w-were at a bar together. So wh-what?”

“The night before she died.” Stan pointed out, frowning deeply. “How well do we really know Kieran, anyway?”

Bill thought about Kieran, how they had slowly started becoming friends, though even then not very close. They talked to each other in class, and Bill felt him a genuinely good person to be around- his personality, everything. “Look, we’ve all g-got c-c-caught doing s-something th-that looked worse than it actually w-was on camera, right? It’s pr-probably the s-same way.”

Reluctantly, Stan nodded in agreement, and Bill tucked his phone back into his pocket. “I’m s-sure it’s nothing.” Bill said gently.

“Bill!” Someone shouted over the noise of the crowd, and Bill turned as Nancy made her way over to him, eyes wide. “Bill, I went back to Cassie the other day because something she said struck me as kind of weird.” She said, and Bill made a startled noise, gesturing for her to slow down with all of the information she was about to shoot at him. “I went back and showed her the yearbook picture of Branson, just to make sure that was him, but… but she said it wasn’t.” Nancy said uneasily. “So I went through and I showed her pictures of everyone, to see if she could recognize Brandon’s son.”

“And?” Bill said, though he already knew what she was going to say, dread coursing through him.

“I showed her pictures from the vigil for Audra, and… he pointed out Kieran.”


	39. The Dance pt. 2

Richie paused in his dancing as all of the lights shut off, the already dim room of the party going pitch black. A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd, and in it, everybody started moving, pushing to get through and find their friends. “Eds?” Richie called out into the darkness, but it was lost in the noise of the crowd, and he was pushed away from where he had been standing just a few seconds ago as the crowd surged every which way. There was no sign of Eddie anywhere, and it was starting to worry him, but he was sure that it was probably nothing- the lights had just gone out, they had probably had a power outage. The backup generator would be on any moment, and everything would go back to normal.

At least, that was what he thought would happen, until the projector turned on, the screen taking up the entire wall. This time, it wasn’t an old horror movie with cheesy effects and monsters.

This time, it was Sheriff Hudson, tied to a tree in what looked like a forest, blood stains on his shirt and going all the way down. Blood covered him, dripping out of his mouth, and his head lolled against the rough tree bark as he sat there, unconscious. At first, Richie couldn’t tell what was going on; the screen was dark, and the pale moonlight barely showed anything, but he managed to shove his way to the front to see what was going on on the screen. As soon as he did, he pushed himself in the opposite direction as a hush fell over the crowd, searching for Eddie a little bit more desperately.

 

~*~

 

_“-Seth Branson from the Derry City Jail. He is armed and dangerous. Once again, this is an APB for Seth Branson, who has escaped from the Derry City Jail. He is armed and dangerous.”_

~*~

 

“Wh-what’s going o-on?” Bill said into the phone, pressed against Stan’s side and scanning the crowd hurriedly as he talked to his mother.

“Seth Branson escaped.” Sharon said, and the sound of papers rustling and all kinds of movement came from the other line. “There’s an officer dead on the scene. They think the crime scene looks staged. Stay at the dance, you’re safer with all of those deputies, okay, Bill?” She said firmly, and before he could argue or agree, she hung up with a soft click. Stan squeezed Bill’s hand gently, gaze full of fear and concern.

“What did she say?”

“We have to st-stay here.” Bill said unhappily, gripping onto Stan’s hand. “Sh-She says we’re safer h-here.”

“Bill! Are you okay?” Nancy said worriedly, jogging up to him, and Bill scowled, resting his head on Stan’s shoulder.

“No. I’m most d-d-definitely _n-not_ okay. Why w-would Branson d-do this?” He gestured to the screen, to the unmoving Sheriff, without even looking. He didn’t think he could stomach looking at the pale man.

“To get the police looking for the Sheriff instead of him, probably.” She said, frowning down at her phone at something. “Look, I’m going to go to the station and see what I can find out. Stay here, okay?” Just like his mother, she didn’t wait for an answer before disappearing back into the crowd. Bill gave a soft groan of frustration, and then paused, scanning the crowd once again uneasily.

“K-Kieran’s m-muh-missing. I wonder if he knows his f-father…” Bill glanced at the screen, and then away again, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m c-calling him.”

 

~*~

 

Kieran glanced down at the phone screen as it vibrated. **_BILL DENBROUGH CALLING…_ ** flashed across the screen, and after letting it ring a couple times, he hung up with one hand, the other one holding a gun.

 

~*~

 

_“You’ve reached Kieran. Leave a message.”_

“K-Kieran, look, I-I don’t know if you kn-know, but Branson esc-caped, and… your d-dad’s in trouble.” _Oh god, there’s no way it can be him._ “Look, I-I don’t know what to b-believe. Just… call me b-back.”

Bill hung up, forcing his breathing to steady as he tried to think of what he could do to help. There really wasn’t much, considering both Nancy and his mom had told him to stay at the dance because it was safer. “Do you think Ben and Bev know yet?” Stan asked, and Bill shook his head, immediately dialing Ben’s number and holding it up to his ear.

“Ben-” he said as soon as Ben answered, but Ben cut him off.

“Yeah, I know. I’m tracing where the live feed it coming from right now. I went home to get my laptop, but a lot of people showed up at the house for the party because the Halloween Dance sucked, and I can’t reach Bev to tell her what happened. I’m driving back now.” He sounded terrified, and Bill felt a rush of sympathy for him, not wanting to imagine what it would feel like if Stan was somewhere else, unaware that Branson was on the loose.

“I’ll call h-her.” Bill said, and Ben muttered a grateful goodbye as he hung up. Bill dialed Bev’s number, but after a couple rings the voicemail played, and Bill swore under his breath, deciding to text her instead.

_Bill: Answer your phone, Bev_

_Bill: This is serious_

_Bill: Mr. Branson escaped & you need to get safe _

 

~*~

 

Bev stared down at the phone screen boredly, scrolling up to try and refresh her texts, but nothing from Bill came up. She read over the last ones from her again, taking a long drink out of the red solo cup.

_Bev: This party is lame save meee_

_Bev: let me know when u leave the dance_

_Bev: where r u?_

_Bev: Bill?_

Over the course of an hour, he still hadn’t answered, or even seen, any of her texts. She sighed and shut off her phone, shoving it into her pocket and walking down to the pool.

 

~*~

 

Richie pushed past everyone in the crowd, letting out a sigh of relief as he spotted Eddie, looking around for Richie and looked irritated by the crowd of people shouting at each other. Richie reached out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and tugging him out from the crowd and to the outskirts. He glanced back at him to make sure he was okay as they walked quickly towards where Bill, Mike and Stan were leaned against the wall, all three of them either texting or calling people to make sure that everyone was okay. As soon as Stan saw them, he tapped Bill’s shoulder, who looked over and visibly relaxed with relief.

“So.” Richie said as he slowed to a stop by them, keeping by Eddie’s side. “What’s the plan?”

 

~*~

 

“So. What’s the plan?” Richie said, and Bill opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of his phone going off, a tone that was starting to haunt Bill at night. But he picked up almost immediately, sure that it was Bev calling to say that she was okay and getting to safety.

 _“Hello, Bill.”_ Greeted him instead, and Bill’s heart sank, frustration washing over him in strong waves. He held up a finger to Stan to show he’d be back in a minute and stepped away from them, walking towards an empty corner before any of them could argue. Stan didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t follow Bill, instead watching him to make sure nothing happened while he was alone. _“Enjoying the dance?”_

“L-Let him go.” Bill said shakily, fist clenching so hard the knuckles were turning white, on edge. “Okay? Th-this is about you, a-and me.”

 _“Oh, I don’t think so.”_ On the other end they let out a little laugh. _“Tonight’s the big finale, Bill. Gotta make sure everybody’s watching the horror show. People wanna see blood, and I’m gonna give it to them.”_

“I’m gonna f-find him.” Bill said into the phone. “And I’m g-gonna find y-you, you sick s-s-son of a b-bitch.”

 _“Then let’s see what you’ve learned, Bill. Can you put all of the pieces together in time to save him? Or will Daisy’s heart be broken the way she broke Brandon’s?”_ Bill frowned, confusion making him stop and think.

“Wh-what?”

 _“Oh, you didn’t know?”_ They laughed again, and Bill’s insides gave a little twist. _“Daisy’s been having a little affair with the Sheriff. But I guess a cheater will always be a cheater. And now you either have the chance to save him, or your parent’s relationship. It’s up to you.”_ Now the voice on the other end sounded smug, proud of what they’d done. What they’d uncovered. _“But I promise you one thing- it’s gonna be gut-wrenching.”_

Screams emitted from the crowd, and Bill looked up just in time to see a cloaked figure wearing a white mask stepping in front of the camera, and they gave a little wave before the screen flickered and went dark.

 

~*~

 

Bill jogged into the Sheriff’s station, hugging his mom hard as soon as he saw her. “A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She said quietly, watching as the body of the officer was being wheeled past. She didn’t look fine, though, and Bill knew she really wasn’t.

“Look, th-the killer called… he said…” Bill hesitated, unsure whether or not to tell her, but continued. “He said th-that Daisy’s heart i-is going to b-b-be broken. And… And I kn-know about the affair. We can t-t-talk about it l-later.” He murmured quietly.

“Oh, god, he’s gonna kill Clark.” She murmured, running her fingers through her hair, and he shook his head.

“Not if w-we find him f-f-first. Look, when I f-found St-Stan, there was a clue c-carved onto his b-b-back. Maybe the same th-thing happened here?” He said, and Sharon reached forward, stopping the paramedics as they wheeled the dead body past. She folded the tarp covering the head back so that she could see, shaking just slightly as she examined him. He had been her coworker; she tried not to let it get in the way of the investigation as she examined him. She frowned as she noticed a slight bulge in his throat, and gingerly stuck her fingers down there. Her fingers found a chain, like a necklace, and she tugged it out with gentle and careful movements.

It was a long, gold chain, and at the bottom of it there was a wooden charm that had the name **DAISY** carved into it. Sharon blanched, looking like she was going to be sick. “Wh-what is that?” Bill said quietly.

“Oh, god.” She exhaled, nausea sweeping over her. “Brandon used to leave me gifts, in the tree behind my house.”

“Mom.” Bill said, gaze flickering up to her with wide eyes. “What if th-that’s where Sheriff H-Hudson is?”

 

~*~

 

Bev gave a frustrated sigh, putting her phone away for the fifth time in the past 20 minutes after checking it for updates on the other Losers. She was starting to think that they had forgotten and just gone home, and it was kind of frustrating, because she didn’t really know anyone else here and had wanted a fun Halloween party, not an awkward social event where she got drunk and stayed away from everybody else.

She turned around, and was met with a cloaked figure, a white mask covering their face.

She gave a small scream, taking a step back into the pole in surprise, as they laughed and pulled off the mask. Underneath it was Reginald Huggins, or better known as Belch. He usually stuck with Henry, but over the recent year they had kind of drifted away from each other. Not that that made him any less of an asshole, really.

“You should’ve seen your face.” He snickered, and then made his voice high pitched, mocking her by giving a small scream.

“Where did you even get that?” She snapped at him angrily, pissed off.

“Some chick on Etsy. She hyped up the price for Halloween, but it was _so_ worth it.” He grinned, and she grabbed it from him, giving him a sour smile.

“Well, it’s mine now. Fuck off.” She said, turning around and stalking away from him irritably. She made her way around drunk people and through a bunch of people playing beer pong,

“Nice mask.” Said a voice behind her, and she turned to see Ben standing there, looking relieved that she was okay. “Got big plans later?” He joked, and she gave a wry laugh.

“I’m tempted. You know, everyone buys these things, and… they think it’s a joke.” She sighed, and Ben gave a shrug.

“People suck.”

“I know.” Bev agreed. “Even the ones I like. The others completely bailed on us.”

 

~*~

 

Bill got out of the police car as fast as he could, Richie and Eddie getting out right behind him along with Stan and Mike and his mom. They all sprinted to the backyard, blood pounding through their veins as they all ran through the overgrown grass. Sharon was the one that got there first, yelling loudly, “Over here!” Before she ran over to Sheriff Hudson, cupping his face in her hands. “It’s okay, we’ve got you, Clark.” She murmured, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from.

“Sorry I… missed the dance…” He said weakly, head moving just a little as he attempted to look at her, but didn’t have the energy for it. She gave a chuckle without humor. “Don’t worry about it. You’re gonna take me to a lot of dances, okay?” She said to him, and started cutting the rope with a knife. As soon as it was cut fully she pulled it away from him, and there was a ripping sound as his shirt ripped off too, attached to the rope. Something fell out, and with horror Bill realized it was the Sheriff’s internal organs- the killer had set it up so that when the ropes were removed, so was the only thing keeping the organs inside his body. Bill stumbled away, tears welling in his eyes as he sank to the ground, throwing up what he had just had for dinner. _Oh, god._

His mother’s cries filled the air, various sounds of, “No! No! Somebody get help, please! _Please!”_ But the Sheriff’s eyes had already glazed over, head falling backward once again as his body went limp.


	40. Headline News

“This is my fault.” Sharon said miserably, head in her hands as she sat in the back of the ambulance. The police were swarming around, investigating everywhere and everything, and Bill gripped the shock blanket he had around him tighter.

“Mom, the EMT s-said th-there was nothing you c-c-could have done.” He said quietly, voice slightly hoarse from crying and throwing up. She shook her head, angry tears filling her eyes.

“The bastard just kept him alive so he could watch me try to save him.” She said, and Bill nodded quietly.

“I know.” He said softly.

“And then he had me kill him.”

“I kn-know.” He said again, hugging her tight. “We can’t let h-him win.”

“No. We can’t.” His mom agreed quietly, wiping away her tears and sniffing. “You need to tell Kieran what happened, he can’t find out on the news.” She said softly, and Bill nodded in agreement, though something made him nervous about trying to find Kieran. He wasn’t sure what.

“Yeah, I’ll f-find him. And th-then I’ll find th-the psycho who did th-this.” Bill said with a frown, and his mom stiffened.

“No, you won’t.” His mom disagreed firmly, and opened her mouth to continue, but one of the paramedics interrupted her, voice gentle.

“We’re ready to move him.”

“I’m gonna go with Clark. I’m gonna have the deputy take you back to the station, okay? Wait over there for him.” She nodded to one of the trees by a police car, and then gave Bill a tight hug. “I’ll see you there.” Bill hesitated, and then nodded his acceptance and walked over to the tree quietly.

“Bill, are you okay?” Nancy said, running up to him and looking worried.

“I d-don’t really w-wanna talk right n-now.” He said quietly, and she shook her head.

“I don’t want you to. I just wanna know what I can do to help.” She reassured him, and he bit his lip.

“I h-have to go to the st-station with my m-m-mom. I can’t reach B-Bev. A d-deputy went to her p-puh-party, but I haven’t heard a-anything-”

“I’ll go check.” She cut him off. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Thank you.” Bill breathed, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Be careful.”

“You too.” She said, and then was gone, getting in her car and driving away towards the party.

 

~*~

 

“I’m gonna go get some wine.” Bev said, giving Ben a small kiss as she untangled herself from where they lay cuddled up on the lawn chair by the heated pool. “It’s really the only alcohol left, everybody drank everything else. Do me a favor and don’t let anyone break anything.” She said with a grin, and Ben nodded, holding up two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

She smiled and turned away, making her way into the house and out of sight from anyone else.

A kid jogged up towards the house after her, and Ben got up, jogging slightly faster so that he got there before the other kid did. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I gotta hit the head.” He said, gesturing inside, and Ben looked him up and down skeptically.

“You’re all sweaty and wet. Hit the head in the pool house.” He said without missing a beat, and the kid rolled his eyes, turning away.

“Whatever, dick.”

 

~*~

 

Bill sat in the waiting room, zoned out and thinking about what had happened not even half an hour ago. He barely noticed when his mom came out of the office and sat down beside him. “We have to stay here to help with the search, okay?”

Bill nodded, glancing over at her. There was blood covering her white jeans, and all over her shirt, and he looked away again. “I-Is th-there anything I c-can do?”

“No, I’m okay.” She said softly. “I’m just gonna go get cleaned up, okay?” At this, he nodded again, watching as she walked away silently. His phone went off, and he jumped hard, heart beating fast automatically. But when he pulled it out, it was just Ben, and slowly his heart rate returned to normal as he answered it.

“I’ve almost isolated the signal. Bev left to find some wine, so I’ve had a little time. I still haven’t told her yet, I don’t want to scare her, but I’m keeping an eye out and haven’t seen anything. Also, I figured out why it’s hard to reach people. The malware doesn’t just access webcams- it turns off ringers and notifications as well.”

“So sh-she doesn’t even kn-know I’ve b-been trying to c-contact her. Tell her th-that, would you? God, he’s cutting u-us off from e-everybody.”

“Yeah.” Ben said numbly, and then inhaled sharply. “I got it. I got the address, where the video was coming from. 1221 Sparrow Drive?”

“Th-that’s wh-where the p-party is.” Bill realized, standing up before remembering that he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere and sitting back down miserably. “I… you’re b-both over th-there, you need t-to get out- try a-and find Nancy a-as well, I just sent h-her over because n-neither of you w-w-were answering.”

“Okay. Tell the cops the address.” Ben said, and Bill’s phone chimed again. He took it away from his ear for a brief second to check it, and his gut twisted.

**_Unknown: No cops, or they will all be headline news._ **

“Bill? Bill, did you hear me?” Ben said into the phone, and Bill put it back up to his ear.

“Y-Yeah, I heard y-you.” Bill said quietly, and hung up before dialing Richie’s number. “Rich? I n-need you to pick m-muh-me up at the Sh-Sheriff’s station, r-right now.”

 

~*~

 

  
“This is insane.” Stan said, and Eddie nodded in agreement, staring into the darkness out of the window as everything whipped past them. Richie drove fast, not saying a word as he did, towards the party. It was only a couple minutes away, but he was pushing the gas as hard as he could without going so fast that cops would stop him, gripping the steering wheel hard. Stan and Bill both sat in the back, while Eddie sat up front. At first, Bill had just wanted it to be himself and Richie to minimize the amount of danger everyone else was in, but Stan and Eddie had both (though hesitantly) refused to let them go alone. So now all four of them were going, and Mike was already on his way.

“I mean, we are willing driving into certain danger without a police escort.” Stan continued, tapping his fingers against the seat in front of him. _1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3._

“The cops can’t help us.” Richie finally said, and Eddie scoffed.

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure they’ve got like, big ass guns and body armor and SWAT teams. I mean, this is America.”

“H-He said no cops, E-Eddie.” Bill reminded him grimly, and reluctantly Eddie sat back. “We have t-to finish th-this ourselves.”

“If this is really the final showdown…” Richie inhaled quietly, staring hard at the road in front of him, “Then he’s gonna kill all of us until Bill’s the only one left. Because you’re the survivor,” he added to Bill. “Which makes me the know-it-all sidekick-” he paused, and then groaned. “Oh, crap, I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not g-gonna die!” Bill said, shaking his head. “Tonight, we ch-change the ending.”

~*~

 

Bev looked through the different bottles of wine, humming softly to herself as she did so and not noticing the figure behind her, walking up to her silently. They reached out and touched her shoulder, and she spun around with a gasp, nearly dropping the bottle in her hands as she did.

“Damn, Ben, you scared me.” She gave a small laugh of relief, handing him the wine bottle. “This look good to you?”

“Yeah.” He said, looking relieved that she was okay. “Look, I-” a scream came from outside, and they both looked up in surprise. Bev shoved the bottle back into the shelf, starting to run out. Ben held an arm out in front of her, and when she looked at him questioningly, he shook his head. “Stay here, just in case.”

“Ben-” she started to protest, but he shook his head, blocking the door with his body.

“ _Stay. Here._ I’m not going to lose you.” He said fiercely, and before she could argue any more he was out the door and sprinting to see what happened. He turned the corner, and immediately slowed down as he saw what looked like blood spreading out in a pool slowly from the pool house bathroom. He remembered the conversation he had had not too long ago with the kid, and dread flooded through him as he crept forward slowly to see what had happened. Inside, the kid was either dead or unconscious, blood pooling around him from his head. Before Ben could investigate further, however, two hands pulling him away and shoved him against the wall.

The cloaked figure stood before him, and he sucked in a sharp breath as they pinned him to the wall. They were strong, and no matter how hard he struggled he couldn’t move, so after a minute he went still, raising his chin and not letting any fear show on his face, although he was terrified. “What are you waiting for, then?”

There was a pause, and then Ben’s eyes slammed shut as the knife plunged toward his face.

 

~*~

 

Bev made her way through the house, fear creeping through her as she peered through windows, trying to get a glimpse of where Ben had gone outside. There was no one in the house, she had made sure of that so that nothing would get broken, but now there was no one outside, either. They had all ran after the scream, and as she neared the porch doors, something slammed into the glass, making her jump and let out a little scream.

“Beverly!” She stared as Seth Branson hit the window again, looking desperate. “You have to help me. I was set up-” as he was talking she locked the doors, before walking back towards the center of the room, staring at him like he was insane. “He was in a mask,” Seth continued, shaking. “He killed the guard and let me out, a-and I knew how it was going to look, so I ran!”

“Who set you up?” She said, unsure whether or not to trust him. She stayed away from the windows and the doors, holding a wine bottle in her hand as a weapon.

“I don’t know.” He said, and started for the other door, but Bev beat him to it and locked that one as well.

“Where did everyone go?” She said, and he placed his hands against the glass, gaze pleading.

“I don’t know. Listen to me, okay? This- this whole thing is a mistake. I would never hurt anyone!”

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know anything about you!” She said, shaking her head. They met gazes, and then he glanced to the side, and Bev realized that the front door wasn’t locked, either. They both sprinted to it, but she got there first once again, locking both of the locks on it and giving a small sigh of relief.

“Why won’t you let me in?!” He said, and Bev couldn’t tell whether it was from desperation or from anger, but he hit his hands against the door again. Then, his face suddenly seemed to clear, a chilling calm coming over him, and he walked backwards slowly. As he did, the lights flickered, and then went off, sending him into pitch black.

Bev approached the door wearily, fear making her heart speed up and her breath come in slightly shorter gasps. She put a hand against the door to steady herself as she peered out into the darkness, ready to run at a moment’s notice. “Seth?”

The lights came on again, but instead of Seth, the mask stared back at her, about an inch from the door.

Bev let out a scream, stumbling back and breaking into a run as she ran in the opposite direction, into the garage. The killer rammed against the door, jiggling the knob as they tried to open it, and Bev ran across the garage and to the closet, but it was locked. She tried the other door, and as soon as it opened she was inside and shutting it behind her, terrified. There was no lock, so she tried to stay quiet, slowing her breathing. From what she could see, there was nothing in the room except for an abandoned and unplugged freezer. Without a moment’s hesitation she climbed inside of it, forcing herself to be as quiet as possible.

The sound of the door opening made her go still, and she turned on her phone flashlight, shaking hard as she waited for what she was sure to happen- they would find her and kill her and leave her body there for Bill or Ben or somebody to find. Instead, there was the sound of two clicks, and horror filled her as she realized that she had just been locked inside the freezer.

“No!” She cried, slamming her hands against the top. “Please, no! Let me out!” She dropped her phone in her haste, but she didn’t care. It still illuminated everything, even as there was movement with the freezer and it was tipped onto its side, away from the wall. She let out another scream, slamming her hands against the top, but it was no use. It wasn’t giving way, and her hand covered her mouth as she stifled a sob.

She let out another scream as there was a tearing around, and a knife plunged through the top of the freezer, and then the killer did that repeatedly, stabbing the top of the freezer, and than each side. She twisted and writhed, trying to stay away from the deadly blade, but it caught her side and she let out a cry of pain. As soon as she did, the knife stopped, and there was a whirring sound as the freezer was plugged in and turned on. Tears streamed down her face as a chill started to kick in, and she weakly thrusted her hands against the lid of the freezer. “Let me out! Please!”

The slam of the door was her only answer.


	41. The End

Richie stopped the car as soon as they got there, and before it even came to a complete halt Bill was climbing out of the car. He ran out of the car, skidding to a halt by a familiar jeep, its driver door wide open and dark red blood covering the handle and the ground. There was also an iPhone laying on the ground, the screen completely shattered, and the recorder that Nancy always used.

“Oh my god,” Richie breathed, getting out and running up as well.

“Come on, let’s check the house.” Stan said, not even looking at the blood as he darted up the driveway to the house nervously. He gripped his house key between his fingers just in case, the only weapon he really had on such short notice.

“Yeah, let’s walk _in_ to the murder house,” Richie muttered, but he followed Stan, Bill and Eddie coming up shortly behind them. The porch had brown bottles of beer, along with cans, cigarette buds and abandoned joints all scattered on the ground, but otherwise it was empty, giving an eerie feeling to the place. As Stan neared the front door, there was rustling in the bushes to the right of them, making him jump. Bill glanced at the rest of them, gripping what he had in his hands- a crowbar- tighter and edging his way forward to see what it was. The others stayed behind him, a small distance away, but ready to jump forward if Bill needed help. He held the curved end away from him, ready to hit whoever it was around the corner of the house on the head with it if needed.

Kieran stepped out from the shadows of the house, a small handgun in his hands and pointed at Bill. Almost immediately, he lowered it, eyes wide. “Bill? Relax, it’s me.” He said, and Bill started to lower it, but quickly raised it again as Richie spoke.

“Yeah, with a gun.” Richie said, suspicion in his voice and gaze as he stepped behind Bill, backing him up.

“Wh-Why didn’t y-you call me b-back?” Bill said, narrowing his eyes at Kieran and not putting the crowbar down, even as Kieran tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans to show that he wasn’t going to use it against them.

“I didn’t really feel like talking much, after I overheard you and your friends practically accusing me of murder.” Kieran shot back, gaze levelling on Richie heatedly, anger starting to stir in his eyes. “I didn’t do this. You wanna put that down now?” He said, gesturing to the crowbar, and Richie scowled.

“No, actually, we don’t want to.” Richie said, and Kieran frowned but didn’t say anything.

“Wh-Why are you even h-h-here?” Bill asked, gripping the crowbar tighter, tension making his whole body tense.

“You texted me to meet you.” Kieran said, and now, instead of anger, confusion showed in his tone.

“No, I d-didn’t.” Bill disagreed, and Kieran pulled out his phone, showing it to Bill.

_Bill Denbrough: Meet me at 1221 Sparrow Drive. Bev’s having a party._

“I sure as hell didn’t send that to myself,” Kieran said skeptically, and Bill shook his head, though he was starting to lower the crowbar again.

“Unless he did,” Richie countered immediately, starting to tense as well. “To convince you he’s trustworthy, because _he’s_ the one controlling the malware.”

“Wh-What happened to N-Nancy?” Bill asked, voice as strong as he could make it. Kieran seemed surprised, like he hadn't been aware something had happened to Nancy in the first place. 

“I don’t know,” Kieran insisted. “I just got here. I took a look around and didn’t find anyone. Why would I wanna hurt Nancy?”

“B-Because she f-found out th-that you might be the s-son of Br-Brandon James.” Bill watched him for his reaction, and shock washed over his face, eyes going wide.

“You think- _what?”_

“Yeah, what?” Richie chimed in, looking like he’d just been cheated out of Christmas. “You found out he might be the son of Brandon James and didn’t tell me?” Bill ignored him, staring straight at Kieran.

“Nancy w-w-went to talk to C-Cassie James, and s-so did I-I. Sh-she said th-that her grandson c-came to v-visit her, and she i-identified _you.”_ Bill said, and Kieran looked taken aback and hurt.

“And you actually believe her?” He asked, and Bill scoffed.

“I-I don’t kn-know what to b-b-believe! Where were you a-all night?”

“I drove around and went to the woods to be alone.” Kieran said, voice turning cold, though hurt was still in his gaze from Bill accusing him of this. “I did a little target practice, got your text, and came here. As for Brandon James, when my dad adopted me, there was a lot of paperwork. You can see it all for yourself, it’s at my house. We may not be close, but I’m pretty sure he’s the only dad I got.” Kieran said angrily, turning away from them.

“Y-You haven’t heard,” Bill whispered, and the crowbar lowered to the ground slowly. Grief and sympathy were both present in his eyes and body language. Everybody else seemed to slow at this, too, and even Richie no longer looked like hitting Kieran over the head with the crowbar. Instead, the black-haired boy looked down, toeing the ground. 

“Heard what?” Kieran said slowly, and fear crept into his eyes now.

“Oh, god.” Richie murmured softly.

“What?” Kieran said again, and panic edged his voice. Bill set the crowbar down gently, gaze softening.

“Kieran, y-your dad was a-attacked.” Bill said softly. “He d-didn’t m-muh-make it- I’m so, so sorry.” Kieran took a step away from them, blinking slowly and looking like a bomb had just been dropped on him. He swallowed hard, turning away from them and leaning against the wall. Bill kept going, voice quiet. “We th-think he must have f-found something, a-and th-then… and then the killer f-found him… my m-muh-mom tried to save him, b-but it was too l-late.” He took a step closer to Kieran, but didn’t touch him, biting his lip anxiously. 

“I can’t believe this,” Kieran whispered, running his fingers through his hair and shaking just slightly. “And… and you still think that this psychopath could be _me?”_ He turned to look at them again, pain and hurt and grief in his gaze. Richie looked away, guilt for thinking that starting to flood through him. Kieran took the gun out of his waistband, thrusting the handle towards Bill. “Use this, if you really don’t trust me.” He challenged, meeting Bill’s gaze evenly, though his body was still trembling slightly and his grip was so tight that his knuckles were white. “Or help me find the sick bastard that’s done this before he hurts more people.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Richie murmured, and Bill nodded quietly. Slowly, Kieran put the gun back, and clenched his fists. After a minute, his trembling stopped, though he was still tense.

“L-Let’s go f-find everybody else.”

 

~*~

 

“Bev?” Richie called into the empty house warily, grabbing the first thing that he could use as a weapon, which was an umbrella. _Wonderful. My life depends on a purple polka dot umbrella._ Music played through the house, some kind of 80’s music that Richie could probably identify if he really wanted to. Instead, he focused his energy on  _not_ getting murdered.

“This place is huge.” Kieran muttered, looking around. “Okay. Eddie, Richie, why don’t you guys take the back porch? Scream if you see anything.”

“That won’t be hard.” Eddie responded, before begrudgingly grabbing a fire poker and following Richie outside. Bill followed Kieran, gripping his crowbar once again.

“Before I die, I would just like to announce that I am definitely _not_ in favor of splitting up, and we will probably not be right back.” Richie said as he slipped out the back door, and Eddie glared at him as he followed.

“Really not helping me right now.” Eddie said, following behind Richie as they looked around the dark yard. The music was fainter out here, but definitely still able to be heard. There was a fire going, which had been abandoned when everybody had fled the party, and when Richie accidentally kicked a beer can, breaking the silence, Eddie nearly whacked him with the fire poker.

Finally, Richie came across something that made his heart sink, slowing down as he stared at it with horror. It was a laptop, but the expensive kind, the kind no one would use unless they really had a way with computers. More specifically, it was the familiar kind, one that Richie knew belonged to one person in particular. “Oh, no.” He breathed, and Eddie looked over at him, coming around to see what was wrong.

“What?” Eddie asked, but as soon as he saw the computer he stopped, swallowing hard. “Ben.”

 

~*~

 

Bill, Kieran and Stan all walked together down the hallway, Kieran in front of the other two with his gun raised. Stan was in the middle, and Bill was last, since he had the second best weapon out of them. If anyone attacked from behind, Bill could hit them better with the crowbar than Stan could with his key.

A distant pounding sound made them all freeze, getting slower and slower as it went on. Bill turned, scanning the hallway as he tried to figure out what it was. “What is that?” He questioned warily, and Stan frowned, giving a small shrug to show that he had no idea.

“I think it’s coming from the garage,” Kieran stated, confusion on his features as they all made their way cautiously towards the garage. “Over here,” Kieran called, stepping into another room that was connected to the garage.

“Let me out,” said a voice weakly from inside, and there was another thump, but weaker this time.

“Beverly?” Stan said, and his gaze settled on the freezer in the corner of the room, tipped on its side with multiple holes in it. He darted over, and both he and Kieran tugged at the latches until they came free. The lid fell open, and inside was Bev, a cut on her forehead and on her side. Her skin was tinted a slight blue, and she was freezing. Her chest moved up and down shallowly with each breath as Kieran scooped her up and laid her gently on top of the freezer.

“W-We have to find B-B-Ben, too, what i-if he’s in th-the same position?” Bill said, fear escalating at the thought of it. Bev gave a weak nod of agreement, sitting up the best she could. Her side was still bleeding, though it looked like the cold had slowed it down just a little bit, and Bill was grateful for that. “K-Kieran, Stan, st-stay here.” Bill said, and before anyone could argue, he was gone. Stan started after him, but Kieran grabbed his wrist, holding him back.

“Don’t you wanna stay and make sure I don’t try anything or something?” Kieran said, and reluctantly, Stan let Bill go through the door by himself, hoping that it wasn’t the last time that he would see him alive.

 

~*~

 

“Bev? Ben?” Richie called out as he neared the pool house, and then his gaze dropped to the ground near where the bathroom was, and he almost stopped walking right then.

“Oh my god,” Eddie said, staring at the huge pool of blood that was coming out of where the bathroom was. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

“Maybe somebody just spilled their wine,” Richie said weakly. “Their thick, viscous wine. That’s plausible, right?” He said as they neared the bathroom. He peered in, and sucked in a sharp breath, taking a step back just as a hand grabbed his shoulder from the opposite direction that Eddie was in. He screamed, jumping away from it and slamming into Eddie, raising his umbrella to hit whoever it was over the head.

Ben flinched, raising his hands. “Don’t!” Ben yelped, and Richie stopped, choking on his scream and nearly crying with relief.

“Jesus fuck, Ben, I nearly killed you.” He snapped, dropping the umbrella and hugging him tight. Ben winced but hugged him back, and Richie felt something wet on his arm. He pulled away, and saw that Ben’s forehead was bleeding, and there was a deep cut on his arm, but otherwise he was fine. He maneuvered Ben over to one of the many couches on the porch and sat him down, just as Bill came running out, concern on his face.

“A-Are you guys okay? Wh-what h-happened?”

“I nearly brained Ben is what happened.” Richie said, sitting down next to Ben. “How are you even alive?”

“I have no idea.” Ben said, glancing over at him. “I saw the mask, and then everything went black.”

“You and Bev are lucky to even be alive,” said Kieran from behind them, carrying Bev as he walked out. Stan followed him as he set the red head on one of the abandoned chairs. “Leaving survivors doesn’t exactly seem to be this guy’s M.O.” 

“Can someone please call an ambulance so _I_ can survive?” Bev said dryly, gesturing to her side, and Ben shook his head.

“Phones are still out.” He moved to sit over by Bev, examining her cut and frowning heavily

“There’s a landline in the kitchen.” Bev said, and Richie snorted.

“A landline? What is this, 1996?” Everyone ignored him, though, and Bill stood up, grabbing his crowbar once again.

“Y-You guys st-stay here, I’m g-gonna go call m-muh-my mom and g-get help.” He said, and sprinted off in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go get a first-aid kit.” Kieran said, and handed Richie the handgun. “You know how to use that, right?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, totally.” Richie said, staring at it, and Bev made a small noise of amusement and took it from him.

“I got it.”

 

~*~

 

Bill walked into the kitchen with a rapid pace, checking everywhere as he made his way to the landline across the room. He gripped the crowbar tight, but that didn’t stop him from jumping as the landline suddenly went off. Without a doubt he knew who would be calling, and he didn’t hesitate for even a second before picking up, waiting to hear that familiar and yet terrifying voice.

“Are you calling to gloat?” He snapped into the phone.

_“Not at all. You finally got a win.”_

“Just c-cut to the chase.” He growled, pressing his back against the wall and looking around for any movement. “Th-this is the big f-finale, right? So h-here I am. C-Come and get me.”

_“Nice try, Bill, but you’re not the only one I want.”_

“Wh-what?” Bill said into the phone, and they laughed.

 _“That’s right, Bill. I told you it started with Daisy, but it ends with you. You can’t have one without the other.”_ A chill went through Bill at this, and his mind flashed to where he had left his mom, alone at the Sheriff’s station.

“Wh-where is she?”

 _“You’re smart, Bill, you can figure it out.”_ They said into the phone, and Bill’s gut twisted as he slowly put the pieces together.

“Wh-where it ended f-for Br-Brandon James.” He murmured into the phone. “The d-dock.”

 _“Just you, Bill.”_ The voice warned. _“Or more will die.”_

 

~*~

 

Bill shoved his way through the wild underbrush that surrounded the lake until he burst out onto the dock, breathing hard. By now, the others would know that he was gone, but that wasn’t what he was concerned with at the moment. What he was concerned with was the fact that his mom was tied to a chair on the middle of the dock, a blood stain covering the front of her shirt and mouth duct-taped shut. When she saw him, she thrashed, shaking her head at him in a way to tell him to leave her there and get to safety.

He ignored her, running forward and peeling off the duct tape with shaking hands. “A-Are you o-okay?”

“You shouldn’t have come, Bill, it’s a trap-” She started, but Bill cut her off, shaking his head.

“N-No, I shouldn’t have l-left you, I-” He started as he attempted to untie the knots, but they wouldn’t come undone.

“Bill, he’s here,” she whispered, and Bill froze for a split second, before pulling away from the ropes, standing so that he was in front of his mom and protecting her. Behind his back, he held the only weapon he had. He had switched his crowbar out for a knife, and as an outline appeared in the shadows of the trees, he was immensely grateful for his decision. 

“I’m h-here.” He called out as the cloaked figure stepped forward, the white mask clear in the pale moonlight as they stepped onto the dock. “That’s what you wanted, right?” _He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees the ghost._ “No more games.” He said steadily, blue eyes focused on the figure that was walking toward him slowly. “No more masks.”

Now, they paused, and Bill could almost sense the smugness radiating from them as they lifted one hand up, pulling their hood back and tugging off the white mask that had caused Bill so much pain.

Bill stared into the face of Nancy Wheeler, heart dropping as he gaped at her in surprise. “Hey, bro.” She said as she walked toward him, a cold and wicked grin on her face. “Surprise.”

“Nancy?” He whispered, taking a small step back and closer to his mom.

“I seriously wish you could see your face right now.” She laughed, and Bill stiffened as she waved her knife at him, grinning. “Hashtag mind blown.”

“I… you can’t be.” He shook his head, thinking about everything that he admitted, told her, over the time that she’d been here.

“I can.” She said, smirking.

“So when we were talking about your dad being murdered…” he said slowly, piecing it together, “You were talking about Brandon James.”

“Yes!” She sounded delighted that he figured it out, laughing. “And you were _so convinced_ that it had to be his _son,_ Bill. I mean, it’s 2018. Sexist, much?”

“You pretended to help me, you pretended to be my _friend.”_ Bill said, staring at her with hate and contempt and hurt, gripping the knife behind his back even tighter.

“And it really stings when someone breaks your trust, doesn’t it? Right, mom?” She said, and now her gaze turned to his mother, behind him. “Dad got shot, I got tossed, and Bill here got the perfect life.” Once again, she turned her cold and calculating gaze on Bill.

“Nancy, I swear, I never meant for him to get hurt,” his mother pleaded with Nancy. “I was trying to protect him.” But Bill knew it was no use- if he had learned anything from Richie and Bev, it was that once a killer got started, they never stopped.

“You were trying to protect yourself!” She snarled at Sharon, thrusting the knife at her to emphasize her point. “For twenty years, you let everyone think that my dad was the monster, but it was you!”

“You’re right.” His mom agreed, tears running down her face. “But those were my mistakes, not Bill’s. If you wanna hurt someone, hurt me!”

“Oh, I plan on it.” She smiled. “ But I put a little thought into this, so I wanna savour it when I slice you _both_ up.”

“I get it.” Bill snapped. “I get it, you hate us. But why did you kill my _friends?_ They had _nothing_ to do with this.”

“To watch you suffer, obviously. Though, they did help a lot. After all, what did your BFF’s do? I mean, two of them were outed by someone else in the ground, and that was priceless.” She laughed, and Bill scowled.

“They’re gonna figure out who did this.” He said, and as they were talking Sharon started to twist her hands to get out of the rope, trying not to wince as it rubbed against the raw skin on her wrists.

“No, they won’t.” She giggled. “Because the bad guy did it, remember? And I have him over there, tied up in my trunk.” She gestured to her car, and Bill shut his eyes for a brief second before allowing them to open again. 

“You framed Branson.”

“You know, one benefit of stripping off masks is that sometimes you find the perfect guy to fall for you. You wanna know how his story ends?” She said, taking a step closer to Bill. “Branson slits Bill’s throat in front of Mom, before spilling Mom’s guts. But not before Bill gets a good stabbing with the knife he has hidden behind his back.”

 _Shit._ Bill thought, but he lifted his chin, bringing it out from behind his back, ready to use it in case she lunged at him. “Rookie move,” she said with another smirk. “And I’m gonna stumble out of the bloodbath with the news that the Derry Slasher is dead.”

“You’re right.” Bill said, and the same phrase that had been repeating all night went through his head again. _He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees the ghost._ “She will be.” He lunged at her, but Nancy caught his wrist and the knife clattered to the dock as she slashed her knife against Bill’s stomach, creating a deep cut that reached all the way from one side of his body to the other.

“You are _so_ predictable.” She said as he stumbled away from her with a gasp, heaving as he tried gripped onto the dock to steady himself. “And now, mommy dearest, you’re gonna get to watch him die.” She said to Sharon, and then turned to Bill again, gaze glinting cruelly. “But, little bro, I just want you to know that I’m gonna let her bleed out alone, just like she left me.”

“No!” Sharon shouted, and tugged herself free from the ropes, slamming into Nancy and sending her to the ground. Nancy looked up at her, and then her face crumpled into one with tears.

“You broke my heart, mom.” She whispered, and then her face turned cruel again as she smiled. “You always hurt the ones you love.” She drove her knife into Sharon’s side, and she gave a cry of pain as Nancy shoved her off to the side and got up, grabbing her knife and walking back over to where Bill was on the ground, blood flowing heavily from his stomach wound.

“You psychotic bitch,” he gasped, and lunged forward with his last remaining strength, knocking her back to the ground and wrapping his hands around her throat. She shoved him off easily, and he just coughed hard, body shuddering weakly as she pinned him down.

“I have one last surprise for you before I open you up.” She said with a grin, and she traced the knife’s tip over his face, tracing his jawline with it. “And you’ll never see it coming-”

A gunshot rang through the air, and Nancy collapsed on top of Bill, a bullet hole in her forehead. He shoved her off in disgust, and she fell off the edge of the dock. When he looked up, Bev was standing there, shaking hard and Kieran’s gun in her hands, eyes wide and fiery red hair a mess from everything that just happened. “Bev,” Bill breathed, and tears filled his eyes, crying with relief as he forced himself up to his knees, and then weakly to his feet as the sun started to rise over the lake.

 

~*~

 

“Well, you got your classic showdown of killer and survivor.” Bev said, tucked into Ben’s side, and Richie nodded, watching as everyone was getting checked up on by the paramedics, Bill and his mom getting rolled out on stretchers because of their serious injuries and Stan refusing to leave Bill’s side through it all.

“And the survivor in the back of the ambulance, just like somebody predicted.” Richie said, and Bev nodded slowly, watching as Eddie reluctantly gave up fussing over whether or not Mike was okay and then coming over and leaning against Richie tiredly, wrapping his arms around him.

“Except today, we’re all sitting in the back of the ambulance together.” She said with a small smile. “Well, not literally, we wouldn’t all fit, but you know what I mean. I’m just glad that I saw Bill run into the woods, or…” she trailed off slowly, and Richie nodded with a smile.

“A true crime-fighting hero.” He said with a little laugh, and he pulled away from Eddie for a brief second to give Bev a tight hug. “You okay?” He mumbled into her ear, and she shook her head, burying her face into his chest. He could feel the bandage that had been put around her wound through her shirt, and the blood that still hadn't dried yet making her shirt wet and stained red. 

“No. But I will be.”

 

~*~

 

 _“Hey guys, this is Richie Tozier, local student and survivor of the Derry Slasher murders, guest podcasting the last chapter of_ Autopsy of a Crime _for your former host, but now deceased criminal mastermind behind the killings, Nancy Wheeler. So, having made it to the end of our very own slasher movie, I think we’re all just processing what we’ve lost and how to move on. Staring death in the face has a way of making you want to be a little more forgiving._

_Maybe we’ll find that the loss of someone we love may lead to the addition of someone new. Maybe we’ll see this as a second chance to do things differently, and make a change, for good. Or to wipe the slate clean and reinvent ourselves as someone new._

_At the end of the day, we’re all just grateful that this is over and that the Derry Slasher is dead. But there’s still one thing that I can’t figure out._

_Nancy Wheeler confessed to her crimes in classic villain fashion. But she never explained who attacked her and Stan in that empty field. I mean, sure, she could have hit herself on the head and made it up, but Stan confirmed it later. As much as I love a good Hollywood ending, I can’t help but wonder, who was wearing the mask that night?_

_Am I just overthinking it?_

_Or is there more to come?”_


End file.
